


Something New

by 0Melting_Angels0



Series: Return to Night City [1]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Developing Friendships, Drug Use, Drunken Shenanigans, Epic Friendship, Family Shenanigans, Female Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Friendship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Male-Female Friendship, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Some Humor, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Melting_Angels0/pseuds/0Melting_Angels0
Summary: V's circle of friends, for the past few years, had consisted of the grand total of 3 people. Sebastian Ibarra, Pepe Najarro, and one Viktor Vector. The latter had tried to get her to let other people in, but they just kept pushing that away. But V's return to Night City after a few months in Atlanta, and some choice encounters, change everything.
Series: Return to Night City [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143071
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. A Priest, A Bartender, and a Shark

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This is my first major Cyberpunk fic, and my first major fic project in some time. I binge-played Cyberpunk as soon as it released, and after 90+ hours and all 7 endings, have more than a few emotions!
> 
> For its cosmetic flaws, it’s an incredible game. The world is fun to explore and mess around in, the characters are all unique and interesting in different ways, and the story is incredible. One of my few main complaints is that we didn’t get much content with our best choom, Jackie.
> 
> So here I am. I play with the timing of things a bit, but this is basically my idea of what happens during the 6 months that Cyberpunk skips through via montage. It’s kinda self indulgent, but it’s more Jackie content, so everyone wins, hopefully. Will also have more Misty and Vik. Generally this is what I wanted from the prologue.
> 
> This is rated M because I swear like a goddamn trooper, and my V does as well- also for future adult content, and descriptions of wounds/gore/difficult subjects. When appropriate, I will include content warnings.
> 
> Regarding my V’s personal backstory- you will see more details as the fic progresses. Yes, she knows Vik before meeting Jackie. Don’t remember if the game says whether V knows Vik before or after meeting our choom, so I’m just going to wing it.
> 
> Also I gave my V the psychofan apartment. With all the Samurai stuff. Partly because it allows for V and Jackie to be roommates for the entirety of the 6 months we missed out on during the montage, and partly because of the fics that will come after this one. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this and want to see more of what I’ve got planned, hit me up with a kudos and comment! Got some buildup for this chapter, setting up my V, but there is plenty of good Jackie stuff to come! I’ve even mixed up a few things from the Streetkid intro to keep it fresh.
> 
> And big thanks to my good friend hippiefricked on Tumblr, for beta reading this monster of a chapter.
> 
> Warnings for mentions of drugs/alcohol.

As the Night City skyline came into view, V exhaled slowly. After the adrenaline and fury filled chaos that had consumed the past few months, the sight of her home city should’ve been reassuring. The idea of somewhere like Night City being reassuring would seem pretty fucking strange to most. And honestly, V wouldn’t blame them. For the most part, it was still a cesspool of every possible fucked up thing you could come up with. Not a day went by without a dozen or more homicides, courtesy of the ever climbing levels of gang violence. Drugs of every conceivable kind fuelled half of that shitshow, with illegal arms deals providing the rest of the backup for the rulers of Night City’s underworld. Police were barely better than the gangs they were supposed to be protecting people from. As they were in a lot of the major cities left across the globe, half of them were corrupt. And those that weren’t? Well...they weren’t exactly pillars of moral supremacy either. Then there was the ever growing expanse of oppressive corporations, spreading out from the city center like the plague, dominating every fucking billboard in sight. 

But even amidst all that, there was still a few bright spots that made returning to Night City a ( _ usually) _ reassuring thing for V. Namely, there were a few people who somehow gave a damn about her. There was Pepe, who’d wave V over to the Coyote’s bar with a reassuring smile, often insisting on sliding across a shot of tequila  _ on the house.  _ He’d talk to her between customers, laughing as she reeled off stories of the latest wild shit she’d gotten herself into- the two of them often sharing another shot together when his shift ended. Following him, there was Padre. V had spent alot of her time on the streets of Night City, on the many occasions she ran from whichever kids home she’d been stuck in. Thus, she’d run into him on almost a daily basis. She’d started off as a merc pretty young, and for reasons V would never truly understand, the man took her under his wing. Even when she made it crystal fucking clear that she didn’t ( _ and didn’t ever want to _ ) believe in the God he preached about, when he wasn’t going about as one of the city’s most prominent fixers.

And then there was one Viktor Vector. Pretty much a Night City legend himself, actually. V had come across him about four years ago. For a long time, she didn’t often end up in Watson, as her primary work with Padre had kept her closer to his territory, but those four years ago she’d started branching out. Kept a close friendship with the Father, of course, but V knew if she was going to avoid being swallowed up by the city, she had to start approaching the other fixers. And, as her rotten fucking luck would have it, that first job for Wakako had gone wrong in pretty much every way. Sure, it hadn’t been Vs fault- someone had stitched them up and slipped some wrong intel into the mix- but it went wrong nonetheless. The guy Wakako had sent on the job with her had ended up taking a good few bullets, and V had to drag him to the closest ripperdoc she could find- which ended up being Viktor. In the one shard of luck in Vs fucked up situation, he hadn’t had a customer on the table at the time. 

Which meant she’d been able to drag her temporary partner directly to his workshop. The guy had reacted quickly, moving to help V get her partner sat in the operating chair. And then he’d worked on the guy with a sense of care and gentleness that she hadn’t expected from someone with a bulky boxer’s physique. V had handed him stuff when he asked, thankful for the tech knowledge she’d gained over the years, but for the most part? She’d just had to sit and watch, ringing up Wakako to let her know what had happened. The woman had cursed up a storm, making V grimace, but it had soon relented when she had the full explanation. After that, she had been told by Vik it’d take a good few minutes for her partner to come around.

So they’d sat in silence for a moment, V hopping up on a nearby table and swinging her legs, before Vik had spoken up. He’d asked if any of the blood covering her  _ belonged  _ to her, and if she needed anything looked at. V had waved him off with an awkward smile, and she’d thought that’d be the end of the conversation. She didn’t know the guy, after all. Well, she knew  _ of  _ him, hearing about him in passing, from the number of people who remembered years past when he was a literal boxing champion- and from the numerous boxing reruns she’d seen over the years. But in turn, Vik obviously didn’t know her. But he’d noticed how her eyes kept drifting to the small flatscreen on one of his desks, that was showing some random boxing match, and asked if she watched. Once she’d said she did, that had started off a surprisingly long conversation. They spoke about their favourite competitors at first, from the pro boxing scene, which led to arguments over which fighter was superior than the other. Vik had indulged her in a few questions about his past life as an active legend, a fond smile crossing over his face as he recalled particular fights that stuck more to his memory than others.Then things had turned to the underground, amateur boxing scene, with the old ripperdoc pleasantly surprised at V’s knowledge of said topic. 

The further in they got, the more questions he asked, and the more the conversation went on. Eventually, it went from just a conversation, to some friendly banter, the two of them bouncing off one another in dialogue like they’d known each other for years. V found that Vik was pretty easy to talk to. He was definitely an incredibly strong guy, as tough as his physique held him up to be, but there was a hell of a lot more about him. There wasn’t any sense of judgement from him, until they found they favoured opposing competitors, but even that had just been some stupid fun. He treated V with respect, not like she kid she still was in alot of ways, ( _ and definitely felt like when dealing with other mercs _ ) and just...talked to her. 

Alot of people didn’t even give V the time of day. She understood it, in a way, as she was a dime-a-dozen merc, no one particularly special. And at her age she didn’t have a fraction of the experience her fellows did. But Vik just ignored any and all of that, just straight talking to her. When their boxing conversation/argument had gone on long enough, he’d in turn found out about her own penchant for boxing. She’d never been able to find or really afford a Coach, but she’d tried to practice and put  **_into_ ** _ practice  _ what she saw in boxing matches, sneakily watched late at night, long after whichever home she was in declared lights off. Course, she didn’t tell Vik a number of those fights she studied were his; didn’t want to risk giving her inner freak-out a chance to emerge. 

Once he found out how much she was into boxing, well, that was it. He’d asked her what moves she’d managed to learn, and had somehow convinced her into giving a demonstration. V felt like a right gonk, miming punches in her scrappy clothes, hair dripping blood onto the floor, but Vik hadn’t laughed once. He’d just smiled with an expression that would soon become pretty familiar, and had walked over to get a closer look. The guy had offered a few pointers, even demonstrating the correct technique himself, a few moves being among those V remembered from late-night match watching. And things had just...gone from there. He’d told V to keep his number at hand, and had gotten her in touch with Coach Fred. From there, she started doing pretty damn well at the whole boxing thing. Course, she never intended for it to be more than a hobby- she preferred going at her jobs quietly, relying on her tech skills and quickhacks, but having a good technique for beating the shit out of people ( _ or snapping their necks _ ) when any of that failed was a pretty solid thing to keep doing. V would see Vik at Coach Fred’s place pretty often, and they started sparring once V could hold her own enough to not get knocked out in the first round. Which took longer than she’d ever admit to- despite staying out of the competitive scene and sticking to the casual side of boxing, Viktor had never lost his touch. Whenever he stepped into the ring, it was as if the guy never left. And V felt pretty damn lucky to have a front row seat.

Before long, V found herself going to Vik more than any other ripperdoc, even if it meant going so far out of the way she’d end up stumbling ungracefully into his workshop. ( _ Which led to him chewing her out for taking unnecessary risks, but hey _ ) Sometimes she’d be so fucking out of it from whatever drugs or anaesthetic she’d had to take, that he’d let her crash on the old couch in the back of his workshop. And, as weeks turned into months, they’d often end up finding their way to a street food stall after working out- and would sit and talk until he’d walk her home. On a number of occasions, they’d go back to Viks place and watch the latest boxing matches, and he’d just let her stay if she ended up falling asleep on his apartments ( _ far more comfortable than the one in his workshop, not that V would ever dream of complaining about that _ ) couch. Which happened pretty often- V didn’t get a lot of time to rest. Mercenary work didn’t leave you with a lot of free time, and what free time you _ did  _ have was often dulled down from having one or more shitty injuries.

And when she’d finally saved up enough to get a decent apartment? He’d been the one to show up and help V move her few boxes  _ to  _ said apartment. Showed up in his car damn near the crack of dawn so he’d be back to his workshop in time, and stuck with her, ferrying the boxes between her apartment and the surprisingly well-maintained vehicle- even though her former apartment’s elevator was broken on the one damn day they needed it. Between the two of them, they’d gotten her squared away pretty quickly. And they’d ended it by crashing on  _ V’s  _ couch for once, talking over Thai takeout and boxing re-runs on the flatscreen V had fixed up with her budding tech skills. As the months turned into years, and said years went by after that, helping her move was just one of the many things she’d never be able to properly thank him for. No matter what time of day or night she showed up at his workshop, irregardless of whether he was only just opening or closing up shop for the night, he would always drop what he was doing to help her. And on the times she’d been covered in too much of her own blood? When she’d come a little too close to death?

Sure, he’d had a go at her for disregarding her own safety, but then he was just concerned. He would treat her with the kind of care he said she deserved, and would make sure to check up on her; both in person and over numerous calls, just to make sure she really was alright. When V finally confided in him over her love for music, ( _ old school rock in particular _ ) he'd sit there and they'd share a beer while V played guitar, enjoying the brief moments of peace where they could. It wasn’t a hobby V had ever shared with anyone else. She felt pretty fucking vulnerable when she played, having used music ( _ one old rock band in particular _ ) to cope with the particularly shitty highlights of her fucked up life. And that was just the tip of the metaphorical iceberg when it came to everything he'd done for her. Without Vik, she would've been dead several times over, that she'd never be able to repay him for. All the eddies in the world couldn't even  _ begin  _ to make up for it. 

Hell, without Vik, she literally wouldn't even be alive...or able to fucking _ see.  _ And that wasn't being dramatic, either. V had been working a Gig two years ago, and the gonk she was working with for that particular job had stitched her up, ( _ bringing back unpleasant memories of the Wakako fiasco _ ) leaving her fighting desperately against a dozen mercs. She'd ended up having to run after taking out a few of them, having enough sense still in her to know when to back away, but a handful had followed after her. V had somehow dealt with them as well, running on ebbing adrenaline and fumes by the end of it, but the last one to fall had literally lashed out as he went, slashing across her face deep enough to gouge through both eyes. ( _ Which had hurt more than any other injury V had received, and had  _ **_yet_ ** _ to be topped on the pain scale _ ) She'd had to guess her way through the ancient phone she carried around once upon a time, cursing when the chipped screen glass sliced open her fingers, and had thankfully ended up ringing Vik. Despite the fact V didn't know where she was beyond hiding behind a dumpster, he'd managed to find her. Drove across the whole damn city, probably breaking more than a few traffic laws. 

He'd all but carried her to his car, and driven back to his workshop with a similar drive of urgency. Though V obviously couldn’t see him, she could hear the concern in his voice, edged with something close to panic; which she’d never really heard before. Sure, she’d heard him border on the edge of frantic when she had a few close calls, but this was something else entirely. V knew the blood pouring down her face was the cause- or at least, she thought that. She’d been so utterly unable to focus on the pain searing through her head, that it wasn’t until they got to Vik’s workshop and he gave her a first dose of anaesthetic that she was made aware of her other injuries. Somewhere in the struggle, a bullet had lodged itself in the centre of her abdomen- and some fucking asshole had made some kind of jagged slash along the back of her shoulderblades. The sudden awareness of just how fucked she was had hit her then, at the same time as the telltale whoosh of a MaxDoc, that she herself had started panicking. And though the slight tremble in Vik’s voice was undeniable, he’d somehow had enough strength for the two of them. Despite the fact he was probably fucking exhausted, given when she’d had to call him, he worked as if he weren’t tired in the  _ slightest.  _ Stitched her up and attended to her injuries like he hadn’t just been doing the same damn thing all day. And when he was certain she’d be able to pull through, he'd had to use the first set of suitable eye optics he came across to avoid her optic nerves deteriorating even further than they already had, leaving her with red, heart shaped pupils against pure black, but V didn't care. She'd half expected to be stuck in darkness for good, but Vik driving across the city like a man possessed, and how quickly he worked on her, meant she got to open her eyes again. And when she'd tried to give him what she knew the work was worth? He'd completely ignored her. Just told her he was happy she was still alive, and in one piece, offering a friendly embrace for good measure. Even though he'd downplay it on the rare occasions she recanted the fucked up story to Pepe, when the two of they were particularly drunk, Viktor was still a goddamn  **hero** to V.

And with saving her, she didn't mean just the eyes or the general medical side of things; with Vik also extending her credit a number of times, without a second thought, but the other shit as well. How he was there whenever she needed a friend to laugh with, or someone to listen when she was going through some shit. V had only had a few friends in her life- could count them on less than one hand actually, and Vik was more than a cut above the rest. He was someone she trusted implicitly, and from their many conversations, knew said trust went both ways. It was because of all these things and more, that normally, coming back from a job, the first thing V would do is head for Vik’s workshop. Whether she was injured or not, that was always her first stop. She’d head in the back way, never too keen on striking up a conversation with anyone she happened to come across, and would either burst in dramatically, or wait (somewhat) patiently until Vik was seeing to his latest patient. And if things weren’t going well in there? V would be at his side in an instant, ready to hand over tools and manage vital signs no matter what state of exhaustion she herself was in. Then, when everything was said and done, he’d almost crush her with a hug that she always returned, and then they’d grab a beer from his mini-fridge. Sitting on the now tired couch in his workshop, they’d catch up on everything they’d missed from one another’s lives. And when those beers were gone? They’d either head to their latest favoured Street Food stall, or back to one of their apartments, leading to either chilling on the balcony or screaming at a flatscreen over a recent boxing match. 

Viktor had even tried his best to convince V to ‘get out there’. To expand her circle of friends beyond the handful she had, even if it was just a conversation with the girl who owned the shop above his. He’d even tried sharing a few stories from when he was her age, in an effort to try and get her to let people in. There were even a couple of names he mentioned more than once, slipping them into a general conversation, and helpfully adding on that they weren’t far off her age. V waved off all his attempts, despite how often it cast a shadow on the rest of the conversation. Not because she felt like she was better than everyone else, like the shitty suits up in their corporate towers, but because she had a feeling people would take off the second they got too close to seeing what was going on in her head. Her story wasn’t even that unique; hundreds of people who had passed through Night City had more than their fair share of shitty backstories. But...well...fuck. V knew she was just afraid. So yeah, she’d wave off Vik’s attempts to get her to stop being a hermit 90% of the time, outside of work- offering a jab that he sounded like her old man.  _ And it worked most of the time. _ The joke would break the tension, and V would be able to detract from where Viktor had attempted to lead the conversation. Part of her regretted it, immediately after waving off the old ripper’s concerns, especially as he had gotten closer to her than most and  _ hadn’t  _ taken off, but she knew she was better off alone. Not just because she was afraid of letting people in, but because the more people you had that you cared about, the more likely it was that the City would take them away. 

Yeah, despite all her faults and attempts to push people away, Vik had stuck around. And V knew any other instance, she’d be able to head to his workshop and pick up wherever they’d left off. But this time? Going to Vik was quite literally the last thing V wanted to do. And none of it was the old ripper’s fault.  _ No, this was all  _ **_V_ ** . During the first month or two in Atlanta, she’d been texting her extremely small group of friends pretty regularly, even ringing Vik up a handful of times. Only Padre knew the real reason why she’d travelled so far out of her usual circle, but it was still good to have the other two in the dark; because V could talk to them the way she normally did. As if nothing was wrong, like she’d just gotten some random gig and hadn’t travelled halfway across the country to deal with the ones who tore her life apart over a decade ago. Those conversations and late-night texts were what kept V sane, at least for those first few weeks. But when things had really kicked into high gear? She’d just let the contact fade out. At first, V kept telling herself she’d reply in a few hours. 

But that turned from hours to days, and then...well...fuck...a week passed. The guilt had steadily been chipping away at her resolve, but V hadn’t stopped. It was, in a number of ways, selfish- no...fuck that. It just was selfish. She’d tried telling herself it was to keep them out of it in case things went wrong and she winded up dead, not wanting to drag them down with her. Ok,  _ maybe  _ that had been true  _ at first _ , but after the first  _ month  _ had gone by? Not contacting anyone was because she couldn’t fucking face it. Couldn’t face how, no matter the reason, she’d ghosted the few people left in the world who gave a damn about her safety. Which left her where she was now, with the last time any of her friends hearing from her being two fucking months ago- Night City drawing ever closer as the train chugged towards it- beaten to hell and half dead beneath a cocktail of drugs. With no one waiting for her. Which was what she deserved, honestly. 

* * *

When the train finally slowed to a stop, the abrupt lack of movement sent V pitching forwards, barely giving her enough time to grip the frame of the window next to her. The motion pulled at the material of the near threadbare hoodie she was wearing, tugging painfully on stitches that were still red raw. It felt like someone had dragged sandpaper across the surface of her skin, the pain so sharp that it stole all of V’s breath in that singular moment. Enough that V had to stay where she was, hunched over awkwardly, until she was able to breathe properly once more, and could move back into a sitting position without seeing stars. Which took much longer than V would have liked, leaving her rummaging through her backpack in search of relief. She hadn’t taken much with her to Atlanta, wanting to be able to move around quickly without worrying over what she was leaving behind, and whilst that had proven to be a good decision in the first few weeks...she was regretting it a whole fucking lot in the present. All she had left were two MaxDocs, and one had been partially used. It wouldn’t even begin to touch the myriad of injuries decorating her tired body, but it would at least keep her mobile long enough to either go to her apartment, or seek out a ripperdoc. V knew she should go with the latter, but her collection of eddies had dwindled steadily during her time away from Night City. If she was to go to a ripper, she wouldn’t even be left with enough for a decent meal. Which would mean she would have to find a gig pretty quickly just to stay afloat, and that wasn’t exactly plausible given the fucked up state she was in.

Sighing heavily, V decided to forgo the doctors’ visit. It was far from ideal, and Vik would no doubt shout at her if he saw how much of a bad way she was in, but struggling for a few days in her apartment was preferable to making things worse during a gig. At least her apartment was something she could look forward to, no matter how things turned out.  _ In all honesty, V still couldn’t quite believe that the place was hers _ . It was a fucking luxury, situated in one of the wealthiest parts of town, surrounded by skyscrapers and other buildings of equally opulent architecture. Sure, she hadn’t bought it herself- would take several lifetimes of gigs to afford it- but it was hers now. How she’d come into it was the last thing on her mind, especially as exhausted as she felt in the moment. All V could think about was what was waiting for her within. A shower she could literally walk into without worrying about catching something from questionable hygiene levels, a large bathtub with so many different functions and settings that you could easily get confused, and a king size bed with a mattress so soft and plush V often found herself falling asleep on before her head even hit the pillow. Just the thought of those things; of a warm shower and soft bed, gave V the final push to get to her feet. Even though she took it slowly, reaching to one of the support poles, it still sent waves of nausea through her stomach- vision blurring and dipping into darkness for several terrifying moments, before finally clearing. 

Once she was sure she could walk without passing out, V reluctantly reached for her backpack, biting her lip to avoid making noises of discomfort when the movement- and subsequent additional weight- pulled at her stitches further. She wished she could just leave the pack behind, as carrying it was proving even more painful than she’d initially anticipated, but V knew she couldn’t. There were more than a few mementos of her time in Atlanta, and a majority of those had some interesting blood splatters on them. It was basically a collection of evidence that would have the cops and lawyers back in Atlanta foaming at the mouth. So V just took a deep breath, told herself to metaphorically grow a pair, and followed the crowd swarming towards the train doors. Bumping into multiple people on her way through the narrow corridors sent sparks careening into her vision, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, but V persisted. Passing out in the open anywhere in Night City was a fine fucking way to get killed, but on subways notorious for highjacking and violence? Chances went sky fucking high.  _ Just grin and bear it _ , V told herself as the crowd moved agonisingly slowly. She just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and then she’d be back out in the fresh air.  _ Ok, maybe the air wouldn’t exactly be fresh, given that it was Night City, but it’d still be better than the claustrophobia-inducing stuffiness of the subway train. _

Well, V had hoped it would be better than the train, but any semblance of relief at getting out of the train station was quickly dampened down. At the last stop before Night City, V hadn’t cared exactly which train she was getting on- still running on panicked autopilot. The same as she had been for the past few days, running from Atlanta without even taking a few minutes to stop and catch her breath. Which she was definitely regretting now. Out of all the districts this train could’ve ended up in, it was right next door to fucking  _ Heywood.  _ Padre’s territory. Fuck, there was no way she’d get far, as someone would definitely spot her and she’d be seeing the Father’s car pull up before long. Even with the shoddy disguise ( _ if you could even call it that- it was just a hoodie, paired with a dark face mask _ ) he would no doubt recognise her. He’d known her long enough, after all. Something V was normally grateful for, but in the fucked up present, was currently agonising over. She couldn’t waste money on getting a ride to the next district over either, with the way her finances were going. ( _ Even though the idea of walking any sort of distance was almost as agonising as the ache in her body _ ) Weighing up her options, and leaning against a nearby wall, V took as deep a breath as she could. She’d fucked up in so many ways, and now she was more than paying for it. 

Eventually, V found it in her to start making her way across the battered train station, keeping her head down and focusing on every step she took. Taking great care to avoid bumping into people, or so much as make eye contact, she steadily found her way to the closest exit. On a regular day, she’d just walk through there, smoking a cigarette or idly scrolling through some mind-numbing nonsense on her phone before a job. Now? She just wanted to avoid getting into some stupid scuffle. Something a few of her fellow passengers hadn’t been so lucky with, if the sounds in the background were anything to go by. Exhaling slowly, forcing herself not to go back and get in the middle of anything, V finally found herself stepping away from the station, and onto one of Heywood’s bustling streets. 

The mix of familiar sights and smells, despite bringing with them a sense of guilt, also brought V more comfort than she realised it would. She could see the colourful graffiti, decorating worn buildings, in dozens of different and increasingly intricate designs, bringing a sense of life and colour to the area. Some were still in progress, people going about with stencils and spray paint like the entire neighbourhood was their canvas. Then there was the smell. Despite the fact that true organic ingredients were getting harder and harder to come by, there was always the smell of savoury cooking going around. Hints of spices, and a myriad of other things that V couldn’t fully place. Sure, these sights and smells were reminding her of the guilt she felt over ghosting Padre, but it was also giving her fond memories. Whilst her time between homes and the street was rough in a number of ways, there had still been enough good times in her Heywood days to make them worth remembering.

V found herself getting so wrapped up in her spiralling thoughts, that she didn’t even realise she’d begun to cross the street- until a car horn honked obnoxiously loud at her. The sound practically pierced its way into her eardrums, magnifying the headache that had been slowly building, into what was damn near a migraine. Which is why, even though it was her fucking fault for not paying attention, V whirled round- ignoring how it tugged further at her now fragile stitches- and prepared herself to give the driver a piece of her mind. Definitely inadvisable given that road rage in Night City often led to a fistfight, or worse, but V was quickly beginning to realise that it wasn’t just her body that was exhausted. And that she had a lot of pent-up anger, which she was ready and willing to unleash. Atlanta had gotten rid of a lot of the rage she’d built up over the years, but even all of that fucked up mess could only do so much. There was, of course, a rational part of her brain reminding her of the fact she was about two punches away from falling over, and had already gotten through the subway station without so much as an irritated glance, but the irrational part won. As it often did- V knew full well how she found her temper hard to reign in. Sure, it’d get her into a whole heaping shitpile of trouble, but...well...yeah. Screaming at someone behind the wheel would get rid of some of it. Even a fraction lifting off her shoulders would be a start. V took a deep breath, and turned around to face whatever unfortunate person had almost run into her.Only for any and all insults to go out the window when she saw who was behind the wheel; the familiar bulky form of Padre’s trusted muscle. The same guy the Father had been using for years, as he was somewhat like V- not trusting people easily. ( _ Blindly trusting someone was a fucking  _ **_fools_ ** _ error, after all _ ) Which meant that one of the people she’d been so intent on avoiding was only a few feet away. Fuck, she really should’ve checked which district was on her train ticket.  _ Fuck.  _

  
“V?” a familiar voice called out, one of the windows in the rear of the car sliding down.

“Padre.” V exhaled slowly.

When the rear door opened, and the older man stepped out of the car, V felt the guilt weighing down upon her grow tenfold. Whilst Sebastian Ibarra was not a man known for being overly emotional, as doing so would no doubt do some bullshit damage to his rep, there was an undeniable expression of relief in the man’s eyes. They creased slightly, pairing with the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a small smile. It was almost tired, like he, too, had something weighing down upon him. Fuck, he definitely had something giving him grief...and V suspected that she was a large part of that. Wouldn’t blame him. He’d seen her grow up, was there for her long before she and Viktor even met, and was someone she knew she could go to if she found herself in some sort of trouble. And, as she’d thought over so many times on the journey back to Night City, she’d ghosted him. Fuck, she’d fucked up royally, and yet he wasn’t looking at her with a warped expression of anger, which he more than deserved to wear; but one of almost tender concern, warmth radiating from where intimidation and anger normally resided.

“V.” Padre repeated, shoulders slumping slightly. “It seems the Lord has brought you back to our city.”

“Lord...didn’t have anything to do with it.” V spoke carefully.

“You may not believe so, V, but it is what I choose to believe.” Padre started walking up to her. “After all, of all the days you could have returned, you happened to return today. Which brought you here, right into my path.”

“Pretty weird coincidence, I’ll give you that.” V spoke awkwardly, wringing her sore wrists nervously. 

“Coincidence or not, I believe we should talk.” Padre’s smile wavered slightly.

“We…” V took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t rightly turn the guy down when he was standing  _ right in front of her,  _ before finding it in her to continue. “We should.”

* * *

As the colourful streets of Heywood began to pass by in a blur, V finally forced herself to look away from the window, even though the slightest motion was beginning to make her head spin. She knew she couldn’t keep running forever, from the friends she’d ghosted. At first, her main goal upon returning to Night City was to disappear into her apartment for a week or more, hiding both from what she’d done in Atlanta, and those she’d ignored as a result. But now, seeing one Sebastian Ibarra, a face she’d known through some of the roughest years of her life, looking at her with a concern she knew she didn’t deserve...kind of chipped away at that ultimately selfish resolve. Sighing heavily, and willing herself not to show the depth of the pain she was in, ( _ as she knew the second he figured out how fucked up she was, Padre would turn the damn car around and drag her to Viktor himself _ ) V forced a tired smile onto her face. It wasn’t her best, but it was enough that a slight smile formed on the old man’s face as well. A start, and that was more than V could have imagined she’d get as her return for two fucking months keeping him in the dark. A start, that was enough for her to finally find both the mental and physical strength to just...talk. It was going to be one long, ugly fucker of a conversation, but it had to be done. She couldn’t keep letting her thoughts spiral and ramble. Even though the idea of getting into said long conversation was the least desirable thing on the planet at that point in time.

“I…” V cleared her throat, grimacing slightly as she felt bruises throb. “I don’t know where to start.”

“That is alright, V.” Padre nodded slightly, tone level and calm. “Perhaps we can go to the start. Did you succeed in your endeavors, in Atlanta?”

“I did.” V exhaled slowly. “I did.”

“All of them?”

  
“Every last one.”

“And how do you feel now, my child? Has it helped?”

“In some ways.”

“But not others, it seems.”

“No. I mean...part of me is...relieved, I know that much. They’re all gone now. From the...from  _ those  _ mercs, to the guys in suits.”

“You know they can torment you, nor any others, anymore.”

“Right. But then there’s this...emptiness. If that makes sense. I don’t...I don’t know…”

“Ah. I think I understand. You are wondering where you must go next.”

“Pretty much. I mean, this whole thing’s been casting a pretty damn big shadow over me. For a long fucking time. And now…”

“The worst of that shadow has been chased away?”

“Yeah...it has. Won’t stop the nightmares, though. Or bring  _ them  _ back.”

“But it has brought you some degree of peace. That is something, V.”

“It is. And...morals and shit say I should feel guilty, about what I did. Who I killed, and how-”

“Those were wicked men, my child. I do not claim to know the Lord personally, as others do, but I know this much- he will not miss them. They shall be dismissed at the gates.”

“If I...if I believed in all that, I’d say I hope so. Though to be honest, Hell seems like a pretty good place for them.”

“I believe they will see justice. Beyond, even, what you have accomplished.”

“Really...believe that?”

“I do.”

“Then I hope they burn.”

“You still have a lot of anger. I do not blame you.”

“How-” V took a deep breath. “How can you talk to me like this, like nothing’s happened?”

“I would never think lesser of you for what you have done, V.” Padre tilted his head slightly. “We’ve all committed our fair share of sins.”

“I don’t mean...I don’t mean what I  _ did.  _ I mean...what I  _ didn’t  _ do.”

“I suppose you mean to talk about how you...disappeared?”

“Didn’t disappear. Fucking ghosted you.” V took a deep breath. “Not...only you.”

“I do not hold it against you, V.” Padre reassured her. “Yes, I was...more than a little concerned as to your status, but...I knew what you were there for. You were simply focused on your goal.”

“No excuse. Could’ve fucking dropped dead up there. And none of you would have known.”

“That thought never crossed my mind, V.”

“Even after two months?”

“Even so. I have faith in you, my child. Though you do not seem to have such feelings for yourself. And though you do not believe, as I do, I knew the lord would guide you home.”

Yeah, V wanted to point out that the high and mighty Lord had fuck all to do with dragging her sorry ass back to Night City, but even she knew when to reign herself in. Despite all that he himself had seen and done, as well as all the shit V herself had caused, his beliefs were genuine. And she couldn’t rightly judge him for that, especially when he had chosen to speak to her like this, and not slammed the car door in his face- as he rightly deserved to do. For all that she could never understand, of how Sebastian Ibarra still held faith in some higher power, she never once doubted the man himself. The concern he showed for her, and the other kids in Heywood who had passed his way in their struggle on the streets, was genuine. And it never wavered. Not even now, after V had left the man with nothing more than a handful of texts, followed by two solid months of selfish silence. It was...pretty damn touching, actually. Not only due to the fact he was treating V the same as he had when they said goodbye before she left, but that he never lost faith in  _ her.  _ That she would accomplish what she set out to do in Atlanta, but that she would be strong enough to survive the chaos, and return home. 

“...thank you.” V spoke after a moment, unable to think of anything that could properly communicate how grateful she was. 

“For what, V?” Padre tilted his head slightly. “A car ride is nothing to-”

“I’m not talking about the car.” V found herself smiling. “I’m...trying to think of a good way to say...thanks. For not giving up on me. For not...losing faith.”

When a genuine smile formed on the Father’s face, V felt the guilt weighing on her shoulders lift, albeit ever so slightly. She’d never really be able to thank him, not properly, for sticking by her after all the shit she’d pulled. So those few words would have to do. He seemed satisfied, at least, so...yeah. That’d be enough for now. It had to be. V would do anything to try and make it up to Ibarra, but she also knew her body wouldn’t  _ let  _ her do any more than those few words. Just staying awake was becoming a struggle, in fact- V becoming aware when her vision darkened dangerously. Something she desperately tried to cover up; by sitting up in her chair as straight as her bruised body would allow, and by digging her fingernails into her palm, using the brief spikes of pain as a focus. It worked, but V knew it wouldn’t work for too much longer. Though she was pretty damn stubborn, and set on staying awake until she could collapse in the safety of her apartment, V knew the latter was becoming less and less likely. Still, she had to try. If she passed out in front of Ibarra, the man would rightfully have the car redirected, and get his goon to help drag V into Vik’s workshop. Which was the last thing she wanted. What Vik definitely  _ didn’t  _ need was to see her being dragged in half-dead, after a fat fucking load of nothing for the past two months.

“V?” Padre’s voice startled V- which she was grateful for, as her thoughts had started to spiral.

“I miss something?” V turned, forcing her smile to remain stuck on her face.

“I was merely asking where you intend to go now.” 

“Oh. I...my apartment?”

“V.”

  
“What?”

“Whilst I have faith in you, due in part to knowing what you set out to do in Atlanta, others may have let their faith waver. Understandably so.”

“I know. I know I fucked up.”

“Then perhaps you should attempt to make amends first.”

“Not sure I want to face Vik.”

“The man has been…”

“Pissed off?”

“Afraid for you, V. He has even approached me, a few times, enquiring as to your present state.”

“Shit, really?”

“He considers you a true friend, V. And those-”

“Are pretty damn hard to come by in this city.”

“So you understand where your priorities should lie.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

“Difficult, I know. But the longer this goes on, especially with you being back in Night City…”

“The more harm it does.”

“So, we shall go to-”

“Go to the Coyote.”

“V-”

“I know I need to grow a pair and see Vik, Padre. But that’s...that’s-”

“Difficult. Still, I do not-”

“I’ll go see Pepe first. Break the ice, I guess. Then...then I’ll go see Vik.”

“A start to making those amends, at least. Very well, V. And-” Padre paused before continuing. "Do not believe I have not noticed the state in which you've returned. I see those bruises on your face, V. And I know there are more."

"I'm-" V tried speaking up, half anticipating where the conversation was going.

"I also know that you are about as stubborn as I am, my child. So I know there is little I can do to persuade you in the direction of a ripper." Padre's smile dipped slightly.

"Padre-" V tried speaking up, noticing the man's change in expression.

"Once you have seen Pepe, please, go and see to your injuries." Padre interrupted. "Promise me, V. I believe I am owed that much."

When the car turned around at the next corner, V exhaled slowly. She’d been so set on dodging everyone and hiding in her apartment for a while, but now? N _ ow  _ she really knew how fucked up that idea was. Not only would that mean extending the time that Pepe and Vik were likely half certain she'd dropped dead in Atlanta, but it would do just as much physical harm. Her body was running dangerously close to relying on fumes, on the dregs of adrenaline that she'd been clinging to in the last few weeks of chaos. Chaos she'd caused, but chaos nonetheless. And her injuries were becoming more apparent as the seconds ticked by. Every part of her body fucking  _ burned _ . And not just in the literal sense, in the wounds V knew had to be dangerously infected by now, but elsewhere. Where there had previously been standard aches and pains, were now bordering on sheer fucking agony. And she didn't have a single fucking drug left.

She just had to get through the next few minutes, and then she could drag her sorry ass to whichever ripper was closest. Once she'd be able to walk more than a few feet, without feeling the need to spill what little stomach contents she had, onto the sidewalk, she could finally make her way over to Vik. He didn't deserve for the first he saw of her in two months to be her beaten half to death. Definitely didn't deserve that.

_ Didn't deserve any of the fuck ups V had made, in fact. _

* * *

Five minutes. That’s how much time had passed since Padre and his muscle dropped V off outside of El Coyote Cojo, with the former issuing a stern reminder of her promise to make her way to a Ripperdoc as soon as she'd tied up more than a few loose ends with Pepe. Despite all the inner psyching up she’d done in the few minutes the journey to the bar had taken, V was still reluctant to step inside. Whilst Ibarra had shown her kindness she didn’t deserve, she knew it was mostly because he’d known what V intended to do in Night City; and thus understood that she may disappear for some length of time. Obviously didn’t expect that stretch of time to be 2 months, but that seemed to be in the past. With him, at least. Another thing V wouldn’t ever be able to properly thank the man for. Talking to Pepe was going to be a whole other story. He knew about as much as Viktor, that V had taken a job that required her to travel upstate. The smallest amount of information she could afford to tell them. And that meant he wouldn’t be anywhere near as understanding as Padre had been, and their conversation was likely to turn out a hell of a lot different. Which left V where she had been for... _ six _ minutes now, thanks to yet another series of spiralling thoughts. Fuck, her head was messed up. Well, several weeks of going without a proper sleep schedule, decent food, and any sort of real medical treatment after several near-death experiences  _ would  _ do that to a person. But she couldn’t keep using that as any sort of excuse or reason. Like Ibarra said, the longer she put off talking to the few friends she had, the worse things would get over time. 

So V took a deep breath, quite literally said  _ fuck it _ to herself, and made her way over the threshold. Even though every step hurt, and not just in the physical sense thanks to her warped sense of guilt stopping her from seeing Vik, she kept on walking. Thankfully, it was still pretty early on in the day, and so there was only a few small clusters of people here and there- meaning the path to the bar was clear. Seeing Pepe back there, talking to one of the many people who chose to start drinking real fucking early, made V almost flinch. Enough that she paused for a moment, and actually turned to look back at the Coyote’s front door. The temptation to head back out and struggle back to her apartment was selfishly tempting, but V forced herself to turn back. Fixing what she hoped was a convincing, apologetic smile on her face, V approached the bar- only to pause again when Pepe happened to turn his head and catch her in his line of vision. His eyes widened almost comically when he actually focused on V, and in an instant he was heading around the side of the bar, not stopping until he was close enough to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. A gesture that V found helped with some of her nerves, even though the slightest shift was beginning to agitate her long fucking list of injuries.

“V!” Pepe looked her up and down, before focusing on her face. “Good to see you in one piece, hermana.”

“Likewise.” V took a deep breath. 

“Half expected otherwise, you know?” “I know.”

“You look...like shit."

"Wow, really know how to make a girl feel special."

"Not fucking around, V."

"I know this looks...bad."

"Least you're still alive. Was starting to think that wasn't the case."

"Yeah, I'm...I'm sorry about that. Can we talk?"

"Over a drink?"

"Aren't you working right now?"

"One drinks' fine. And I always got time for you, V.”

“Even though I ghosted you?”

“Not going to lie, pretty pissed off. But still got time for you.”

“Why?”

“Not like you to just...disappear. Figured whatever was going on in Atlanta was important to you.”

“Should’ve made time for you, still. And Padre.”

“And Viktor.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you, V?”

Sighing heavily, V took a seat on one of the worn barstools once they were close enough, running a bloodied hand down their face as they leant forward. Taking her silence as an answer, Pepe shook his head, before crouching down to rifle through something below the bar. It was only a few moments before he popped back up, holding two glasses and a familiar bottle of tequila- the man’s preferred brand. V herself usually preferred a good scotch or a beer, but had definitely come around to the idea of a few rounds of tequila, thanks to the Coyote’s resident bartender. It had a hell of a kick, in the right way- if you knew which brand to drink. And Pepe definitely knew his stuff. Part of what made him a fixture of the bar itself.

“Neat?” Pepe held out a glass.

“Neat. could do with a stiff drink.” V accepted the glass, before holding it out so Pepe could pour in a generous helping of tequila.

“Could do with a few, by the look of you.” Pepe poured himself a glass, the bottle resting on the counter nearby. 

“I look that bad?”

“Like shit doesn’t even cover it, V. The fuck happened?”

“Alot...happened.”

“So much you couldn’t even send a text?”

“I know I fucked up.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“That what you’re going to tell Viktor?”

“That...and a hell of a lot more.”

“Good. Guy’s been asking about you.”

“He has?”

“You two are practically _familia_ , V.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“Before, never would’ve questioned it.”

“But now you do.”

“Can’t blame me for that, V. Or Viktor.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Ask him yourself.”

“Going to, after this. Spoken to Padre. You were my next stop.”

“Leaving the ripper till last?”

“Psyching myself up.” V finally downed her glass of tequila, shuddering slightly.

“Going to need more than that.” Pepe gave her a pointed look, before finishing his own glass, and reaching for the bottle.

“Thought it was only one drink?” V questioned, holding out her glass with a now trembling hand.

“Said you needed more.” Pepe shrugged as he poured them both another glass.

“And you’re working.”

“Coming to the end of my shift anyway. Been working overtime. Don’t think Mama Welles will mind if we share a shot...or two. Besides…”

“Besides…”

“You said you were going to tell Viktor a hell of a lot more.”

“And you want the same.”

“Think I’m owed that much, V. Wasn’t joking, what I said earlier.  _ Was  _ starting to think you were...”

“I know, and...I’m sorry.” V interrupted, taking a deep breath to curb her rising tension.

“You can make it up to me by explaining what the fuck happened.” Pepe leant forward. “Some of it, at least. Should save your strength for Vik.”

“He...that bad?”

“Past two weeks, been coming in here, asking if you’ve popped back up.”

“And before?”

“Gave me a few days break between visits, at least.”

“Shit.”

“You fucked up with him, V. I’m serious.”

“I know, and I’m...I’m going to fix it.”

“Good. Never seen him worried like that, before.”

“He’s...a good friend. Better than I deserve.”

“You talk to him the way you’re talking now...and I think you can fix things.”

“Really think so?”

“I’d bet on it, V.”

“...alright.”

* * *

All things considered, the talk with Pepe had gone far better than V thought it would. Sure, he’d laid into her more than once, to make sure she knew just how bad she’d fucked up. But then, when she offered him an ( _ albeit watered down _ ) explanation, just straight up admitted to said fuck-ups, and apologised? Things calmed down. Sure, there was still an underlying tension, like Pepe knew he wasn’t getting the full truth, but he’d obviously gotten more from V than he thought he would...so they were eventually able to leave the last two months in the past. Which wasn’t where she’d thought this reunion would go. Honestly, V had half expected the guy to deck her as soon as his shift ended, regardless of the unspoken rules in the Coyote; and she’d ended up telling him as much, but he’d just smiled. Smiled and shook his head, before pouring them out another glass of tequila. Were it not for the fact her body was now shaking with the effort of keeping the pain from exiting her mouth in the form of a stream of expletives, it’d be almost like things were before V left. They sat at the bar on a somewhat warm evening, early enough that there wasn’t a huge crowd around, and sharing the drink that had somehow become  _ theirs.  _ It was almost peaceful, which was why V stuck around for as long as she did. Pepe had tried to get her to leave a few times, to go and see Vik, but V knew that reunion wouldn’t go anywhere near as smoothly as the past two had. So she used words and tequila to keep herself in that peace, for an hour, taking the time to enjoy said peace where she could. Because even with the underlying tension, it was still a welcome break from the chaos of the past few months. A break that, at times, V wasn’t sure if she’d live to see. But here she was, smiling at Pepe as he spun stories of the most eccentric customers to grace the Coyote’s bar, the guy laughing and smiling with her like he’d not just been lecturing her a few minutes ago. It was...yeah...it was nice. Nice didn’t really begin to cover it, especially given what V had been expecting, but she was too fucking tired to think of anything else. 

Because while the peace was that welcome break from everything, the lack of activity was also making her aware of how little time she had left before she crashed. The copious amounts of drugs and alcohol she’d consumed, particularly in the last few weeks, in order to keep going through that time in Atlanta, was really beginning to come down on her. Those two Max-Docs she’d taken had barely even touched it, doing just enough to keep her upright on the barstool. She probably shouldn’t have taken each of the four shots of Tequila that Pepe offered, despite the fact that they were given freely, as it’d make the comedown that much harder...but it was also what was keeping V from outright passing out where she sat. The slight buzz from the alcohol making its way through her veins was doing some serious legwork in keeping her conscious. But that wouldn’t last long. Which is why V began planning a way to tactfully duck out of the spiralling conversation, working out how best to leave and head over to Viktor’s workshop, only for any and all plans at said exit failing when she saw Pepe’s smile vanish. At the same time that a familiar, obnoxious laugh sounded from the Coyote’s upper levels. Truth be told, the longer the evening went on, the more tense Pepe had seemed to get, making V realise that said tension couldn’t solely be attributed to her sudden re-entry into the man’s life. Fuck, she’d probably have noticed it a hell of a lot earlier if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her own selfish guilt.

  
“Something up?” V asked, noticing how quickly the smile returned to Pepe’s face ( _ far  _ **_too_ ** _ quickly _ ), expression tinged with unease.

“Nothing you need to worry about, hermana.” Pepe returned his focus to V, despite the fact he was gripping his glass tighter than before.

“Come on, Pepe. I know I haven’t had damn near enough shots to imagine that. Something’s up. Can see it in your goddamn eyes.”

“V, you don’t need-”

“I owe you. For ghosting you. I deserve a hell of a lot more than the fucking lecture you gave me.”

“V-”

“Tell me, Pepe. The fuck’s going on?”

“It’s…” Pepe took a deep breath. “Damn, can’t hide anything from you.”

“No. You can’t. So just...tell me. You listened to me, when you should’ve straight up decked me. Only right I listen to you.”

“Not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not letting go is half of what landed me in Atlanta. Tell me. Why’d you freeze up when that gonk, Kirk, laughed loud enough to wake the fucking dead?”

“That fucking laugh…”

“Like nails on a chalkboard, I know. Don’t dodge the question.”

“Bit rich coming from you, V.”

“I know.”

“No chance I can-”

“No. No changing the subject. You were ready to kick my ass for doing that. Come on, spill.”

“Fine. Look...I got a problem.”

“Figured as much.”

“A big problem. Serious this time.”

“What’s the  _ big problem _ ?”

“It’s...uh...Kirk.”

“Kirk?”

“I owe him. Don’t pay by tomorrow, said he’d bust my legs.”

“I know I should be the last one judging, Pepe. But  _ Kirk _ ? Everyone know’s that guys a fucking shark.”

“You’re right.  _ Should  _ be the last one judging. But you’re right, V. So we both know Kirk don’t joke about that stuff.”

“Got cartels in his corner, I remember. Why’d you get mixed up with him?”

“My brother. Jumped the joint. I figured he deserved a hero’s welcome. I know I fucked up.”

“Had the right intentions. Damn shame guys like Kirk wouldn’t know the right intentions if it hit them on the fucking nose.”

“So you see, I’m in trouble.”

“Yeah, with Kirk? That’s an understatement. Anything i can do?”

“Just got back, look half dead on your feet. Not going to-”

“I owe you, Pepe. Could’ve slammed the bar doors in my face. But you didn’t. Owe you for that...and the past two months.”

“Still. Can’t ask you-”

“Don’t have to ask. I’ll go talk to Kirk. see if I can’t work something out.”

“You do that, I’ll owe  _ you  _ one, hermana.”

“Not going to owe me a thing.”

Though the idea of getting up off the barstool was bad enough, what would follow that was worse. Her body was already fucking screaming at her, every movement of the worn fabric against her bruised and bloodied skin like sandpaper. And her head was worse. Tequila had numbed the worst of the pain, for sure, acting almost like a boost of adrenaline, but even ten shots couldn’t properly cover it up. The sensation of nausea building up, alongside the incoming crash, was the worst V had felt since leaving Atlanta. But there was no way she was leaving Pepe at Kirk’s mercy. Especially after the man had shown her kindness she didn’t deserve, after the shit she’d pulled in the last few months. So V told herself to suck it up, swung herself round on the barstool, and planted both feet on the ground. Knowing that Pepe, with a big fucking heart under all the ink and muscle, would stop her from helping if she so much as stumbled, V internally begged her body to just work with her. She only needed it to work for a few more minutes, then she could drag herself to Vik and beg ( _ yes, she was willing to do that, having heard how worried the old ripper had been _ ) for the guy’s forgiveness. And  _ then  _ she could go back to her original plan of passing the fuck out in her apartment, letting whatever drugs she could find with the miniscule amount of money she had left jump-start what V knew was going to be one long fucking healing process. 

“Sure you’re up for this, V?” Pepe questioned, thankfully stopping her from zoning out. 

“Yeah. Just...give me a damn second.” V forced a smile onto her face.

Fucking hell, the room swam around her when she was finally on her feet. But mercifully, the floor didn’t rush up to greet her. Somewhat stunned, and more than a little relieved, at standing upright, V took a deep breath. Even something as simple as a goddamned breath was hurting, but she forced her body to cooperate, and took a step forward. Once satisfied that she wasn’t going to be giving the wooden floorboards a high-five with her face, V steadily made her way across the Coyote, keeping her head down and biting back insults as she bumped into a few people- the building steadily filling up as evening drew nearer. Making it to the foot of the stairs was much harder than it should’ve been, with the looming flight of stairs only making things worse, but V kept going. Hoping that Pepe wouldn’t see just how hard she was leaning on the battered guardrail, she dragged herself up the stairs. The upwards motion not only served to darken her vision dangerously, but it also tugged at more than a few stitches, bringing them dangerously close to tearing. Sacrificing a hand on the rail in order to hold it over the worst of her stitches to protect them from said tearing, V eventually made it up the stairs, looking around as quickly as her thumping head would allow. Thankfully, Kirk was a good few tables away from the top of the stairs, meaning she had a precious few minutes to catch her breath. Which she took, leaning against a nearby wall in what she hoped was more ‘ _ casual, yet threatening _ ’ than ‘ _ I’m about one poke away from falling over _ ’. Judging by how people simply brushed past her, or even gave her a wide berth, it was the former. Whilst her few friends, and Vik in particular, had tried to convince her to be more approachable, that distant cold V exuded was working in her favour. Enough that V was able to  _ fully  _ catch her breath, before heading in Kirk’s direction. Making sure that her hood was up, and the zip up as far as it would allow, to hide the worst of her injuries, she fell into her usual posture. Nodding idly at Kirk’s hamburger-chomping goon, V placed a hand down on the table in front of the uptight shark, finding some of her confidence restored when the guy actually jumped a little.

“Kirk.” V willed her voice not to shake. 

“V!” Kirk looked up, recovering from the brief moment of shock. “Didn’t know you were back!”

“Just got back this afternoon. Can we talk?”

“Eh, why not. I’ve got time. Sit, sit.”

Making sure to keep the neutral expression fixed on her face, despite how sitting down opposite Kirk tore a few of the smaller ( _ and poorly done _ ) stitches, V forced herself to focus. Pepe was a good guy, even if the gonk had fucked up in his decision to go to Kirk, and definitely didn’t deserve the threat that had him so rattled. He was relying on her, now, so she couldn’t afford to think about how little time she had left before her body began relying on fumes to keep conscious. She just had to focus on someone other than her selfish ass, and get done whatever needed to be done to make him and Kirk even. Even if that meant tearing a few more stitches, and being stuck in a booth next to the shark’s lead goon. Who V would normally be able to deck in one punch, but wouldn’t even be able to scratch in the state she was in.

“So, whatcha need?” Kirk asked casually, looking away from the screamsheet he was reading, drawing her attention.

“This isn’t for me.” V crossed her arms, leaning back against the plush seating. “Here for Pepe.”

“Why, he too shy to hand over the eddies himself?” Kirk laughed, before continuing. “Tell him I don’t bite. Not yet, anyway.”

“You said you’d break his legs. Pretty sure that counts as a bite.”

“Not a bite, V. Threat of a bite, sure.”

“And that’s why I’m here. Hoping we can work something out. How much does he owe you?”

“‘Fraid I can’t tell you. Client confidentiality, and all that.”

“For fucks sake, Kirk-”

“It’s  _ alot. _ ” Kirk interrupted. “Why don’t we leave it at that?”

“Fine.” V huffed. “What’ll it take to make you even?”

“More money than you probably have on hand. I’m not a priest running some fucking charity, V-”

“Look,  _ asshole- _ ”

“But I have another solution.”

Taking the screamsheet as Kirk slid it across the table, V forced herself not to snap. Hell, fucking shark could probably deck her in this state. She had to keep it cool, work out how she could help Pepe, and then she’d be able to walk out of there. Would probably stumble a few times, if the pain was any indication, but still. She’d be able to walk out of there.

“Can’t just give him more time?” V questioned, after she noticed the page Kirk had left open.

_ An advert for a fucking  _ **_Aerondight_ ** _. _

_ One of the most expensive cars on the  _ _ market _ _. _

_ Fuck, she didn’t like where this was heading. _

“What did I say?” Kirk leaned forward, interrupting her thoughts once more.

“Not a fucking charity. I know. So this…” V gestured to the Aerondight advert.

“Is the solution.”

“Guessing that solution is me klepping this fucking thing?”

“Guessed right.”

“These things have their own security, Kirk. damn near the best money can buy. Even I’d have a tough time getting through that.”

“I thought ahead. Figured Pepe would find someone to do his dirty work for him.”

“If you say one more fucking thing about him-”

“Got it all figured out.” Kirk spoke, like he hadn’t even heard her. 

“So I swipe this for you…” V forced herself to remain calm. “And Pepe’s debt is squared?”

“I’ll even throw in a cut for you, I’m such a nice guy.”

“Nice isn’t exactly what I’d use to describe  _ you,  _ Kirk.”

“Easy, V. Save that energy for the job.”

“I swipe the car, you clear Pepe’s account.”

“Have my word.”

“...fine. Still need to tell me how we’re getting past Aerondight security. Or where the fucking car even is.”

“As for where the car is, its sitting in a garage few blocks from here, underneath this club. Embers. Know it?”

“Fancy-ass nightclub for rich fucking assholes. Everyone knows it, Kirk.”

“Great. Well, that’s where you’ll find this sweet ride. Rich kid Owner’s at Embers every Friday night, like clockwork.”

“And today’s Friday. Lucky me.”

“Lucky you, indeed. Now, as for  _ how  _ we’re...or well...you...are getting past security…” Kirk slid a strange looking device across the table. “ _ This _ bitty bop works like the key Rayfield techs use for repairs.”

“It can open the car’s locks? Bypass identity authorization? Like some fucking skeleton key for  _ all  _ of their fancy rides?”

“In a nutshell.”

“Realise this is suspect as fuck, Kirk? A skeleton key, really? Don’t tell me you’re buying into that shit.”

“Comes from the tech wizards over at Kabuki. We both know they sell more magical shit than this under the counter. Have a little faith, V.”

“Faith in this shaky-ass plan?”

“Hey, you’re the one with the bleeding heart. Thought you wanted to help out your choom, Pepe?”

“I do.”

“So take the key. Remember, you do this...not only will I clear his account…”

“But you’ll swing some eddies my way too. I remember.”

“So...we all agreed?”

“Better keep your word, Kirk.” V nudged the shark’s goon, getting him to shuffle away. “Or I’ll be seeing you. And it won’t be to fucking talk.”

“Eeeeeeasy, V. shit, you came back with a fucking stick up your ass.”

“Yeah? Well I’ll shove that stick up _your_ ass if you don’t keep your word.”

Relishing in the way Kirk’s skin seemed to pale slightly, V made her own way, shuffling across the seat until she could stand up. Thanking whoever the fuck was watching, if anyone was watching, that she didn’t fall flat on her face, V kept the neutral expression fixed on her face. Though, she did let it slip when she offered Kirk a glare, as she swiped the janky looking key. Leaving the two of them by sticking a middle finger up in the air, and getting one from each of the two assholes as she left, V slowly made her way back down the stairs. Normally, she wouldn’t step within two fucking feet of Kirk. Guy wasn’t just a shark, but a slimy one as well. Everyone in Heywood knew you didn’t do business with him. Not even if you were desperate. Which, unfortunately, Pepe had obviously been. Guy normally knew better.  _ But V had been away for a few months, as her guilt helpfully reminded her, so his situation could’ve changed a hell of a lot in that time. _

“Talk to Kirk?” Pepe was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, frowning. 

“Got it all squared away. Just need to do one thing for him.” V moved to stand next to the guy. 

“Sure you can-”

“If you ask me about doing this one more time, I’ll shove this key-”

“It’s just...you’re not looking so hot.”

“Yeah. starting to feel it, too. But I’ll get this done. Don’t worry.”

“I do worry, V. Should never have-”

“What did I say?”

“You’d shove the key up-”

“Yeah. I know I owe you, for welcoming me back when you should’ve slammed the door in my face. So let me sort this shit out.”

“Ok. V. come by here when you’re done, alright? Give you another shot. Going to need one before you see Viktor.”

“Don’t I know it.” V exhaled slowly, before forcing a smile onto her face. “Be seeing you, Pepe.”

“Be careful, V.” Pepe placed a hand on her shoulder.

Tactfully shrugging the gesture off, V kept that forced smile fixed onto her face, even though the darkness in her sight that had been creeping in intermittently, was now fixed ominously at the corners of her vision. Fuck, she was so...well...fucked. But there was no backing out now. Not that she had any intention of doing so before. Pepe had done more than he realised, in greeting V the way he had, after those two months of selfish ghosting, and she was never the kind of person to leave those kinds of debts unpaid. So she just kept putting one foot in front of the other, scanning the suspicious key with her near busted optics, and grimacing when said scan revealed little more information than what Kirk had supplied her with. The entire job seemed too good to be true, leaving V wishing she’d pressed the guy for more information. Her exhaustion had made her sloppy. Meaning all she knew was that she was swiping one of the most expensive cars on the market, using a key some unknown entity from Kabuki had cobbled together.  Fuck, she hadn’t even asked who she was stealing the car from. Rich guy didn’t exactly give her a lot to go on. He could be old money rich, some illustrious celebrity, or the stuck up kid of some high-up corporate assholes. In any case, someone V had a feeling she’d regret crossing. She’d just have to be careful... _ aaand Kirk was already calling her on the holo _ .  **How the fuck had he even gotten her number?**

“The fuck do you want?” V snapped, hand literally on one of the Coyote’s door handles.

“Losing your touch, V. Didn’t grill me the way you did last time we worked together.” Kirk raised an eyebrow, visible even over his obnoxiously large sunglasses. “Figured you knew better.”

“Just got back. I’m tired as fuck, and I want to get back to my goddamn apartment. Trying to get this over with as soon as-”

“So it’d make sense to have what you need, right?” “Just spit it out already.”

“Garage the car is in? Got a...friend...working there. Talk to him, tell him I sent you- and the security cams in there go  _ goodnight. _ ”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Owner’s some guy with rich fucking parents. Arasaka type.”

“How high up we talking?”

“Not so high up his car can’t be klepped by someone off the street.”

“Fuck you, Kirk.”

“Leave it until the job’s done. If you can do it.”

“Doubting me?”

“The V I know-”

“You don’t know me, Kirk.”

“The V I know  _ of  _ wouldn’t let anything slide. So I know something’s up.”

“I’ll get the damn job done.”

“See that you do. Don’t think I need to remind you-”

“You don’t.”

Though it took every ounce of strength in her body, V managed to swing open one of the Coyote’s doors as she hung up on Kirk, and stepped outside. She’d definitely fucked up by not getting every piece of information she could out of the slimy asshole. Being exhausted was no excuse. She should’ve known better. And by now, Kirk would probably be bragging to his chooms about that. How he'd ( _ in his eyes _ ) got one up on V.  **Fuck** . Well, just one more thing to add to her steadily growing list of fuck-ups.  _ And another pain to add to the list.  _ Shaking her head slightly in an effort to clear her darkening vision, V found the semi-fresh air hitting her as she exited the Coyote, almost took her out, causing her to have to lean on a nearby wall for support- painfully gasping for breath, darkness in her vision daring to creep in a bit further. It took more effort than she’d admit, to get past that, but after a few agonising moments she managed to straighten up. But, no sooner than she’d done so, did she hear someone calling her name. Groaning dramatically, and bracing herself for whatever was about to go down, V turned in the direction of the voice- only to see Padre’s favoured goon waving awkwardly at her. Frowning, as she’d been under the impression they’d driven off the second they entered the bar, V walked over- only to be surprised a  **second** time when she saw Padre leaning on his car a few feet away.

“Thought you’d left.” V walked up to the man, pocketing the key Kirk had given her.

“Wanted to make sure you didn’t walk back out.” Padre sighed. “I know you, V.”

“Yeah...you do.”

“So, you talked with Pepe? Made amends?”

“Starting to. Helping him work things out with Kirk.”

“You shouldn’t be working, V. Not in your state.”

“I’m fine.”   
  
“Did I not just say I know you, my child? You are not fine.”

“Alright. I’m not. But I'm also not about to leave Pepe at that shark’s mercy. Guy said he’d bust Pepe’s  _ legs,  _ Padre.”

“Ah, V. The merc with a heart.”

“Only for people I care about.”

“Still, an admirable quality. If a little foolish, in this instance. What’s the job?”

“Just got to steal a car.”

“Something tells me it’s not that simple.”

“An  _ expensive  _ car.”

“Not going to tell me more?”

“Don’t need to know more. Knowing Kirk, things won’t be as simple as he says they’ll be. Best you stay out of it.”

“I cannot persuade you otherwise?”

“Not this time.”

“Can I offer you a lift, at the very least?”

“...not going to say no to that.”

“As long as you fulfill your promise, and go to see Viktor afterwards.”

“I will. Swear it.”

“Then let us go.”

* * *

Honestly, the idea of getting out of Ibarra’s luxurious car, and heading back out into the stale evening air, was about the least enticing thing V could think of; overpowered only by the idea of trying to get this job done...but V stepped out of it anyway- watching with a sigh as the car turned a corner before disappearing into the night. Watching it vanish into the dark was tough, but turning back around and putting one foot in front of the other was even more so. And V couldn’t say she didn’t deserve it. Because she did, ghosting her friends the way she had...no.  _ She couldn’t think about that shit right now _ . She had a job to do, and Pepe was counting on her to get it done. The shitstorm that’d be coming down on V? She could think about that when one of her friend’s legs getting snapped was no longer a possibility. Luckily, thanks to Ibarra looking out for her, V didn’t really have far to go. It only took a few minutes for her to duck down an alleyway, and make her way into the garage building via a side door. 

One which, thankfully, didn’t have security anywhere near as advanced as the cars it was holding, folding within the first few seconds of V breaking through the firewalls of said security. Still longer than it normally would’ve taken her, but she wasn’t lying flat on her face, so V took the pathetically small victory, trying to keep a slight spring in her step as she made her way down the quiet hallway to the garage itself. Keeping her head low, and hoodie zipped up high, she expertly weaved her way between the paths of the security cameras. On a regular day, she’d have just turned them all off, but she knew there was at least one person physically in the building, if what Kirk said had any degree of truth to it. So she couldn’t just shut everything down. There was a strong possibility that the shark was actually right for once, given how seriously he seemed to be taking the job, and V couldn’t afford to freak out his contact by tripping any wires. Messing with the door had been a risk in and of itself. One she’d had to take because she couldn’t body the door open, but a risk nonetheless. 

Exhaling slowly, V finally made her way to a break in the wall- where a tired looking security guard sat behind what she presumed was bulletproof glass, given the type of car the garage was housing. One that was among many others of flashy, gaudy value, if the quick glance beyond the looming, open doorway was any indication. Adopting what she hoped was an easy going smile, V tapped on the window, causing the guy to jump back from the screamsheet he was reading. Holding back laughter, and any quips at his lack of concern for the cars he was supposed to be watching over, she waited somewhat patiently for him to put the creased magazine down, and lean forward. Knowing the guy’s attention was now on her, V spoke up.

“Rick, right?” V remembered his name from a text Kirk had sent her way during the drive over. “I’m with Kirk.”

“Said you’d be headed my way.” Rick nodded, before running his fingers over a few nearby buttons. “Cameras’re blind. You got twenty minutes.”

“Alright.” V glanced sideways to a nearby camera, noting that it was indeed dead. “Thanks.”

Heading out into the garage itself, V let out a low whistle. For sure, the Rayfield was going to be the gem of the collection, but the rest of the cars were definitely made of some valuable shit. She’d been right. Roughly a dozen cars, each one more gaudy and ostentatiously wealthy than the one before it. All of them together could keep the lights on in Heywood for a good long while. It was a fucking goldmine, and V wished she had time to admire them properly. Some of the colours the cars were painted in were definitely an eyesore, but the vehicles beneath all those painting mistakes were things of beauty. The type of cars driven by people in V’s apartment block. One of many ways they liked to remind her that she didn’t belong there. And one of many things V couldn’t afford to get distracted by. Taking a deep breath, V made her way through the garage, idly admiring each car as she walked along the ominously sterile flooring. Kirk had said in his text about Rick, that the car she was after was one of only 4 in Night City, so she didn’t exactly  _ need  _ to scan every fucking vehicle in there with it, but despite her own words to herself to not get distracted... **no** . She had to stay focused. Even if the idea of daydreaming ( _ because V knew she’d never be able to afford a car like any of these _ ) about driving one of these into the sunset was fucking preem. 

Somehow managing to redirect her focus to the task at hand, for the umpteenth time, V finally found the Rayfield. Not sporting any tasteless paint, it sat there all sleek and shiny, like it had driven straight off the pages of the advert. It oozed luxury, but soon all she could see was all the security hidden inside. Finding herself biting her lip in steadily rising anxiety, V took out the ‘skeleton key’ that Kirk had slid her way, and slowed to a stop next to the car in question, reluctantly ringing up the shark on her holo.

“Found the car.” V spoke bluntly.

“Nice.” Kirk grinned. “Ready to make us rich?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Come on, V. Have a little faith.”

“Whatever, Kirk. Let’s see if this tech of yours works.”

“Just press that button-”

“And the car doors will magically swing open for me?”

“Yes they will.”

“Fine. Let’s...take this thing for a whirl, I guess.”

After pressing the most noticeable button on the clunky piece of tech, V found herself pleasantly surprised as the car’s doors swung open at a complicated angle, giving her a view of the Rayfield’s plush interior. The seats looked even more comfortable than her couch...hell...her  _ bed.  _ They definitely didn’t skimp on any of the extras with this car. Course, she’d known it was top of the line when Kirk shoved the screamsheet at her, but seeing it in person was another thing entirely. Every square inch of it reeked of money, even more so than the other vehicles in the garage.  _ And fuck, that was saying something. _

“Shit. Actually worked.” V couldn’t stop the laugh of sheer fucking relief.

“See? We’re rich!” Kirk grinned. “Now fire ‘er up, and call me when you’re underway. I’ll tell you where to go.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Just made us both rich, V! Lighten up a little.”

“Fuck off, Kirk.”

Hanging up, V shoved the clunky tech onto the Rayfield’s dashboard, before hopping into the driver’s seat. Allowing herself a few moments to enjoy the car while she could, she leant back into the luxurious back of the seat, letting out a breath she didn’t even realise she’d been holding as her back sunk into the plush leather- eyes roving over the delicately crafted controls as she did so. Despite the modernity of the design, parts of it almost seemed ornate. Probably down to the materials used to build it. Cost of those alone could feed half of Heywood for a good year or two at the  _ very  _ least. God, to be able to spend that much on a car? And not even blink at spending said amount? V knew she’d likely never get there. So, might as well enjoy the car for the few minutes it’d be in her possession. Smiling slightly, as the doors slid shut, V reluctantly sat up in her seat. Though she moved slowly, the motion still sent her worn clothing moving over her battered skin, even catching where those few small stitches had torn. Which definitely brought more than a few tears to her eyes. Okay,  _ fuck.  _ V was officially now running on fumes. But those had to be good enough to get the job done. She was so fucking close to getting Pepe out of Kirk’s slimy-  _ wait, was the car door fucking opening? _

“Get the fuck out.” an unfamiliar voice spoke.

Whipping round in an instant, and biting back a sound of pain as her vision went worryingly dark for a few seconds, V found herself looking up, and into the barrel of a gun. She’d been in a number of situations like this in her time on Night City’s streets, but fuck anyone who said it got easier. Staring down at something that could end your life in an instant was fucking terrifying. It didn’t get easier. Fuck, you just got better at hiding it. And that was what V did, forcing a smile onto her face as she looked up to the one holding the gun. A guy whose face rang a few bells, for reasons she couldn’t rightfully place.  _ But an ultimately unknown face, nonetheless.  _

“Get the fuck out.” the guy repeated, moving the gun a little closer. “Now.”

“Ok, easy.” V slowly raised her hands, grimacing as another small stitch pinged. 

“Nothing personal,  _ compa. _ Just biz.” the guy shrugged nonchalantly.

“Alright.” V shuffled to the edge of the seat. “Just biz. But...you never heard of thieves honour? I was here first-”

“Listen.” the guy interrupted. “Only one of two ways to do this. Friendly…”

“Or fucked up?” V guessed.

“Or fucked up.” the guy confirmed. “Either way, this whole thing’s ending the same. I’m takin’ the car.”

Before V could speak another word, the guy’s strong grip was on her arm, and her vision was swirling as he tried to pull her out of the Rayfield. Reacting on instinct, despite the fact that the stranger was packing some serious iron, V wrenched her arm away, and reeled back her free hand for the strongest punch that her exhausted body could muster. Only for that to stop, not just because the gun had swung back round to stare her in the face, but because the sound of approaching sirens had filled the air. Feeling her stomach drop, knowing how ruthless the city’s supposed protectors could be, V glanced back into the Rayfield- and saw a flood of errors lighting up the car’s dashboard in an ominous shade of red. Fuck, she’d been right. Kirk’s tech wasn’t all he’d claimed it was. V had known that, deep down, but Pepe was in trouble.  _ The fuck else was she supposed to do? _

“NCPD!” A loud voice called out, as the garage doors slid open. “Drop your weapons.”

“ _ Mierda _ .” the stranger dropped his weapon, before slowly backing away from the vehicle.

“Don’t move!” another voice called out, as swathes of red and blue light filled the garage.

Though the loud noise left her aching head ringing, V complied, raising her hands up, cursing Kirk under her breath as she did so, a series of curses that’d make even the worst of the city’s underbelly go scarlet fucking red. That asshole was going to get more than an earful of expletives by the time she was done with him. God, she could just picture it now. Him sat there with that smug grin, which she’d quickly wipe off with a well aimed punch, and a threat to leave Pepe the fuck alone, regardless of how the job turned out. If she walked out of the garage alive, that is- NCPD  _ had  _ caught her red-fucking-handed. Plus, the guy that had stopped her from blitzing down the street in the Rayfield was carrying. And V herself was covered in dry blood. Sure, it wouldn’t be exactly visible in the kaleidoscope of red and blue lights, but it’d show up pretty damn well under a scanner. If she lived long enough to be subjected to a police scan, that is. After all, over the years, Night City’s Cops had adopted some of the gang mentality. Which meant they’d sooner just shoot her and this stranger than ask them questions. Especially over something as expensive as a fucking Rayfield. She was so fucked.

“You’re under arrest!” one officer spoke up, as they exited their vehicle, gun in hand.

“Stay where you are!” another added.

Well, they weren’t shooting first today. Not yet, at least. V felt a slight sense of relief at that, but that was quickly cast aside when the two officers who had spoken marched up to her and the stranger, guns leveled directly with their foreheads. Yeah, V was definitely giving Kirk a piece of her mind. It wouldn’t just be a punch. She’d drag him down the steps of the Coyote, and out into the street, where he’d be lucky to be left alive. Even if it meant doing so from the literal afterlife. God, if she died like this, she was definitely haunting Kirk for the rest of his miserable fucking life.

“Hands where I can see ‘em!” an officer called out.

“What, they’re not high enough?” V took a jab.

“On the  _ fucking  _ ground.” the other practically spat out.

Yeah, that wasn’t her smartest move, one V regretted in an instant when the guard who had talked down to her grabbed her by the hood of her jacket, and dragged her out of the vehicle. The sickening thud her body made against the concrete only served to make the resulting spike of pain damn near nauseating. Normally, of course, she’d roll away when she hit the floor; maybe even offer another ill-timed quip, but today? V just found all the breath knocked out of her, leaving her wheezing as the officer forced her down on her front, crouching down beside her with a wicked grin. He seemed to revel in her visible discomfort, evidenced by how every pained breath escaping her mouth made the unsettling grin stretch wider. As the guy held his gun to the back of her neck, smile almost reaching his fucking ears, she forced herself to fully turn in his direction. The situation was pretty fucking dire, V knew that much. Another jab like that, and she’d get a bullet in the brain. So she couldn’t afford another wisecrack. She’d just have to settle for remaining conscious, and not giving anymore indicators of pain to fuel the smile of the guy behind the gun. Was real hard not to want to talk back, though. Kirk had joked that she’d come back from Atlanta with a stick in her ass, but NCPD’s ‘ _ best and brightest _ ’? Had a whole fucking bunch up there. And there was so many creative insults V could think of, even with her head pounding like she’d drunk her way through half the city’s clubs. 

“Jackie Welles.” someone walked through the haze of red and blue, snapping V out of her thoughts. “My old pal from the hood.”

_ Jackie Welles? _

**_Welles?_ **

**_Why did that name sound familiar?_ **

“See you haven’t grown an ounce wiser.” the same guy continued.

“Hey...ah…” the man now identified as Jackie spoke, drawing V’s attention to him. “Detective Stints. Been a while, huh?”

“ _ Inspector _ Stints.” ‘Stints’ corrected. 

“Same shit.” Jackie smirked, even though he was being held against the ground about as hard as V was.

“Speaking of mugs, yours is familiar too.” Stints turned to V, tilting his head slightly. 

“Well, what do you know?” V grimaced, ignoring half of what he said.

_ Yeah, taking another jab was pretty stupid. _

**_But V was getting to the point she was past caring._ **

“A pig that talks?” V chuckled as she continued. “Shit, now I’ve heard it all.”

“Left for Atlanta a few months back, right?” Stints pointedly ignored her. “What for? Slice of happiness, some bullshit like that? Didn’t find it, obviously.”

“Oh, fuck you.” V spat out.

“Ahh, there it is. You know, always thought you termites from Heywood were all the same.” Stints sighed mockingly, as he moved to crouch down in front of her. “Born here. Live here.  _ Die _ here…looks like I was right.”

_ Okay, this asshole was really getting under her skin. _

_ And she’d definitely regret speaking back at the guy when he now held a gun a few inches from her face… _

**_But she’d rather lay down and die than let someone talk down to her like that._ **

“You know fuck all about me.” V took in as deep a breath as she could. “Blue suited prick.”

“Wow, got quite the mouth on you.” Stints let out a low whistle. “Almost a shame to shove you behind bars-”

“Come on, Stints.” Jackie drew their attention. “Give us a break, huh? Say you lock us up, we’ll just jerk off ‘till trial. Then what?”

“He’s got a point.” V interjected, smiling mockingly, despite the ever-approaching darkness in her vision. “Worst case scenario? We’ll get a few months. I mean, from what I’ve heard, standing room only in El Bote these days…”

“So we’ll prob’ly be out early.” Jackie followed along. “And-”

“Are these the thieves?” a new voice cut in. “Ordinary street trash.”

Okay, V already hated the guy just from hearing his snobby voice, but that hate only intensified when she turned in the direction of said voice, and saw who it belonged to. She’d known it was the car’s owner, because who the fuck else would waltz into this mess preening like a fucking peacock, but the stuff the gonk was wearing just confirmed it. Even from a distance, you’d know that the suit he was wearing was about as far from off-the-shelf as possible, made out of materials so luxurious V doubted she’d be able to own so much as a shirt made out of it. Or anything made out of it, actually. Entire getup was likely worth a decent fraction of what the Rayfield itself cost, with a sheen glinting in the light, revealing a delicate pattern embroidered into the suit with paper thin gold threads. And his glasses?  _ Definitely designer _ . His whole getup hugged him like the well-tailored shit it was, only made even more ostentatious by a logo, visible also on the uniform of the towering guards accompanying him. 

_ Kirk was right on one thing, at least.  _

_ Guy was definitely of Arasaka make.  _

**_Fuck._ **

“Shit, he’s here.” Stints muttered under his breath, before getting up. “Yes, we’ve got them in custody, Mr Fujioka. We’ll be taking ‘em away now-”

“It’s a waste of effort.” Fujioka spoke dismissively. “I have no time to testify, nor play at an investigation.”

“Don’t like where this is going.” Jackie whispered to V.

“With you on that,” V muttered back.

“Suggestin’ we let ‘em go, sir?” Stints asked, glancing back down at V and Jackie before redirecting his focus.

“I  _ suggest  _ you toss them in the sea.” Fujioka corrected. “Cuffed legs broken so this  _ trash  _ doesn’t float.”

“You heard ‘im.” Stints turned his gaze back to them. 

“Heh…” Jackie laughed nervously. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

Yeah, things were completely fucked.They were completely and utterly fucked. But V wasn’t even given time to react, because the second Stints turned away, several more officers took his place, ominously cracking their batons as they wandered closer. Looked like they were going to deliver a hefty ass-kicking, before following through on the Saka scum’s threat. Yeah, V knew it was stupid given the fact she was outgunned and outnumbered, but she still tried to struggle. No fucking way was she going down like this. Especially not on the order of some ostentatious, spoiled rich  _ brat _ . Taking a few more deep breaths, V whipped her head backwards. Common sense would’ve served V well in the situation she was in, because the instant the back of her head connected with the officer’s forehead, she knew she’d made a mistake. As not only did the ache in her head turn into full blown, burning agony, vision blurring dangerously, but all it earned her in response was a swift kick to the gut. A blow she’d normally be able to block, then put a stop to permanently by twisting the offending leg round until it snapped. But today, it was a blow she just had to take. One that was the first of many. Because her smart fucking idea of fighting back earned the beating Jackie had been getting for the past few moments several times over- leaving V unable to even curl up into a ball to shield her body from the worst of it. Try as she might, she just couldn’t force her body to cooperate. She’d been walking the tight rope of consciousness since she stepped off the fucking train, and now the darkness was taking advantage of her weakened state, steadily rushing up towards the center of her blurred vision. Each new hit struck harder at her battered body than it would, if she were in her usual fighting condition, tearing at stitches and infected wounds with a ferocity that brought tears to her eyes. 

Tears that V fought not to let fall, biting down hard enough into her lip that she tasted copper on her tongue, from the sheer effort of not crying out. 

_ Effort that was soon put to waste, by name of the butt of a pistol, to the back of her already bloodied head. _

  
  



	2. Of Reunions and Chilli.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V really hadn’t wanted the first thing Vik saw of her in two months, to be her beaten half to death, but it seemed like the bitch known as fate...and the guy called Jackie, had other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the second chapter! Lots of Jackie content here, as well as a good dose of Misty and Viktor content too! Like I said, this fic series is mainly to explore Jackie and V’s friendship, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t include other NPCs too! 
> 
> There were so many I felt we should’ve had more time with, so here we are. If you enjoyed the first chapter, I hope you enjoy this one too!
> 
> Warnings for bad language, mentions of drugs/alcohoL/near overdose, some medical stuff, and a whole lot of angst. 
> 
> Big sections of italics represent V kind of hearing things whilst she’s out of it. You know when you’re semi conscious but just pass tf out again soon after? And I use … alot to represent when a character who is speaking, is in pain.
> 
> Again, major focus is V for this chapter, but there is also alot of Jackie content. These first few chapters are to set up why my V left for Atlanta, and how they met Jackie and Vik.
> 
> Shoutout to the amazing hippiefricked for beta reading this chapter!

When V finally started coming back into awareness, it took way too fucking long for her liking. Because it didn’t all come back at once. No, her body took its sweet time getting its shit together. First thing to come back was her sense of smell, which was a mixture of good old polluted air, and distant fast food joints. Not unlike the musty air of the motels she’d frequented during her time in Atlanta, though at least the stench of death wasn’t mixed somewhere in there. That was something, at least. _Fuck._ Honestly, she’d have taken being stuck in one of those motel rooms for any length of time, than what happened with the next sensation that returned to her body. Whereas before, on the train and the disjointed time after, her body had been in considerable pain...it was now about a hundred times worse. She’d known a few stitches had split, even before the cops showed up and gave her and this Jackie an impressive beating. Now? V would be surprised if a single one remained intact. Which meant she was likely bleeding out in some random alley; cops would have enough sense not to leave her in the garage of the exclusive club. A dead body after an attempted theft would make at least a _few_ dents in Embers’ reputation, after all. Though being dead actually sounded pretty damn good. The throbbing in her head had escalated past the point of a migraine, or the hangover she had when she and Viktor pulled an all-nighter watching some boxer fight abroad. 

Which was saying something, as even the old ripper had been unable to work that day due to the state they were _both_ in. Burst stitches moved like coils of red hot wire over her battered skin, as she struggled to keep drawing breath. The wounds that V knew damn well were infected, had definitely been opened. She’d been in a number of shitty situations during her time on Night City’s streets, and had assisted Vik enough times to know the difference between blood, and a whole lot else. Injuries that weren’t infected still burned like they were, the agony coursing its way through her system, working in tandem with the ever present, throbbing bruises that had created a patchwork on her skin. Then there was her chest. Fucking hell, those cops had to have steel toes hidden on them or something. Because V could definitely feel how badly her ribs had been busted up. At least two were broken, for sure, the others more than likely cracked. _She was lucky the broken ones hadn’t pierced anything important_ . And that left her hands. V could tell she wouldn’t be doing any boxing for a while; several fingers were about as busted up as her ribs, with those spared of broken bones not doing a whole lot better. Great. Just fucking _great._ Yeah, this wasn’t the first time she’d been beaten up by the cops after getting tangled up in something, but it was easily the worst one she’d felt. _Which was...well...definitely due to how fucked up she’d been before the beatdown had even started._

“Hey! Could do with you waking up!” an unfamiliar voice crossed into her head.

“Not so…fucking loud.” V croaked out, still unwilling to open her eyes.

“Have to be. Got to get you up!” the voice responded, not lowering their voice in the slightest.

“Five more minutes.”

“Can’t do that. Sorry.” 

“At least...tell me _where_ the fuck I’m waking up.”

“Just some back alley.”

Getting the sense that she wouldn’t learn more unless she got her shit together and opened her eyes, V took in as deep a breath as she could; feeling tears building in the corners of her eyes as her lungs expanded against her battered ribs. Just breathing hurt, but she had to work her way up to being fully aware of what was going on around her. Though she struggled to draw breath, V finally forced her eyes open. And immediately regretted it. Not only was it still early enough for the sun to be out, and glaring down, but the neon lights of the city seemed to just make the whole thing worse. Normally, V just didn’t give a shit about how the Night City skyline was a damn kaleidoscope of garish colours. Even hungover, she could deal with it without the mix of lights churning her stomach. In the present moment though? _Definitely making it all worse_ . The ache in her head was slowly beginning to be accompanied by a slight ringing in her ears, and blurring vision. Even a few quick blinks did little to clear everything up, but it at least got to the point where V could turn her head, in what she was 99% sure was the direction the unfamiliar voice had come from. Luckily, she was right. The guy next to her was Jackie. Didn’t look even half as bad as her, but the split lip and busted nose was still pretty fucked up, if the blood drying on his face was even the half of it. Still, somehow, the guy just smiled at V, even looking relieved that she’d accomplished the _monumental_ task of opening her fucking eyes. 

Which gave her something entirely new to think about. He could easily have left her wherever the cops had dumped them, but instead he’d dragged her somewhere that seemed relatively safe. They were even a decent distance away from the chaos of the streets. And not only had he dragged her out of the shitstorm with the cops, but had somehow managed to get her sitting up. That collection of realizations, and the oddly easy-going smile on Jackie’s face, finally connected the dots for V. The last name Welles only made her that much more certain; this was one of the many people Viktor had tried to get V in contact with. Someone that he mentioned more than anyone else, save for the girl that owned the esoterica above his workshop, or the odd contact from his younger days in the spotlight. 

“So…” V cleared her throat, grimacing when it sent spikes of pain up through her head. “Think I heard Stints say your name was...Jackie?”

“Jackie Welles.” Jackie confirmed. 

“Then...I’m V.” V introduced herself. 

She knew she should be more focused on getting herself some help, but V found herself delaying the inevitable all the same. Because she seriously doubted that she’d be able to stand on her own two feet, which meant having to lean on a guy she barely knew, but knew enough of to know he’d drag her to Vik. And that would be what she’d been trying to avoid ever since she set foot in the city earlier that day- the first thing the old ripper seeing of her in two months, being her beaten half to death. Yeah, she could deal with the pain and oozing wounds a little longer, if it meant she could talk to Jackie long enough to convince him to take her to someone else. Just had to work with him, keep him talking for a while. Then? She could use her famous powers of persuasion and get help from literally any doc other than Vik. _Then_ she could get herself on the road to recovery, which was going to be one long fucking journey, and _spend_ said recovery time working out how the hell she was supposed to apologise to the guy who was literally her best friend _after_ ghosting him for _two months_.

“I know you.” Jackie drew V’s attention. “You hang out at the Coyote.”

“Sometimes, yeah.” V answered. 

“Then you’re…” Jackie shook his head, smile spreading across his face. “You’re _V._ ”

“Not following.”

“Viktor. Guy talks about you all the time.”

“He does?”

“Weird. Kind of feels like I know you already.”

“Could say the same about you.”

“Serious?”

“Serious.”

“Only the best things, right?”

“Only the best.” V found herself smiling for a moment. “You know, after back there...didn’t think we’d be doing much talking.”

“Same here. Things did look iffy.” Jackie idly nodded his head. “Wasn’t sure we’d worm outta that alive.”

“Almost wish I hadn’t.”

“Yeah, you went down hard.”

“Feels like it, that’s...for damn sure.”

“Should probably take you to see Vik. Get us both patched up.”

“Look-”

“Then we can get us some lunch.”

“Lunch? Didn’t you...hold a gun to my head...a few minutes ago?”“Meant what I said. Nothing personal. Just biz.”

“Biz. Where _did_ you get the job from, anyway?”

“Could ask you the same.”

“Gonk by the name of Kirk.”

“ _Mierda_.” Jackie’s expression hardened. 

“Don’t tell me…”

“Thinking we got the job from the same sewer slug.”

“Fucking hell...Kirk.”

Of course. She should’ve known. That little slip-up, back at the Coyote, where she’d let on how out of it she was by not grilling him for information like she normally would? It’d given that asshole enough cause for concern, to give the job to someone else as well. And had only ended up making things worse, costing them the target of the gig in the first place. If he hadn’t sent Jackie, she’d be cruising around Night City right now, feeling pretty damn good about herself for the first time in weeks. Then again, if she’d taken care of herself, she’d have been with it enough- and would’ve been able to go about getting information the way she normally did. Kirk wouldn’t have doubted her, wouldn’t have sent Jackie...and she wouldn’t currently be in an even worse state than she’d left the Coyote in, beaten closer to death thanks to Night City’s finest. _This was some fucking butterfly effect shit._

“Gonna have a word with him. Why’d you take the gig?” Jackie drew V’s attention once more.

“Pepe. He owes that asshole. Wanted to...help him out.” V exhaled slowly.

“Only reason I took it, too. Looks like he got us both...speaking of- if you were already on it…”

“Not operating at a hundred percent. Looks like Kirk isn’t a total idiot- picked up on that.”

“And sent my sorry ass as backup.”

“Ended up making things worse.”

“Fucking Kirk.”

“I’m going to kick his _ass_. Cartels or no.”

“Cartels?”

“You...know what they say, right? That Kirk’s backed by cartels?”

“Heard a lot of shit about Kirk. Listen, I know those cartel types, and I can guarantee you none of ‘em have even _heard_ of Kirk.”

“Then he gets a _double_ ass kicking.”

“Can get behind that.” Jackie slowly got to his feet, idly dusting himself off. “But first, we get patched up. Then-”

“Wait, you’re _serious_ about lunch?”

“Dead serious. ‘Sides, you help my homies, you’re ok in my book. So, no harm, no foul?”

“None at all. So...lunch. What’d you have in mind?”

“My mama’s chilli. You wouldn’t believe it- best in town.”

“High praise.”

“For her cooking? Never enough.”

As Jackie started going off on a tangent about Mama Welles’ cooking, V took the opportunity to focus back on herself for a few moments. Whilst talking with the surprisingly upbeat guy had distracted her from the worst of the pain, it just wasn’t enough anymore. V was surprised she’d managed to keep her voice sounding so stable- because every part of her body fucking burned. And it wasn’t just the infected wounds spreading the start of a fever in her veins, or the pulsating ache from the broken ribs. No, it was the whole fucked up collection of injuries she’d sustained over the past few weeks. Not taking care of herself had already left her pretty much screwed by the time the train slid to a stop in the station, but the beatdown from the cops? That had dialled it all up to eleven. If she was being really honest with herself, V was surprised she wasn’t curled up on the floor in the fetal position, or spewing her guts up. She’d take the wins where she could, though, because if she was going to somehow persuade Jackie into seeing literally any other ripperdoc, she’d need to be upright to do so. Couldn’t do much in the way of persuasion where she was, denim-covered ass firmly fixed to the dirty concrete below. 

So V took another deep breath, biting down hard enough to make her newly split lip bleed again, before bracing her palms against the wall behind her, and attempted to pull herself up. The spark of pain that resulted at the movement, sent her vision into a blinding white light for a few seconds, leaving her struggling for breath by the time it cleared. She’d been pretty fucking careful, knowing that one wrong move could leave her being internally impaled on her own fucking ribs, but evidently being careful wasn’t going to make a dent in the pain. Shit, if she thought it was agony when she was sat back down, then this was another level entirely. With movement, brought extra sensations, so she could feel the blood seeping down her chest and back, mingling with what would be infected fluid from the worst of her injuries. It was almost as bad as the sweat that had begun beading on her brow, and trickling down her skin, from the effort of moving, feeling that mingling with the typical types of dried blood and dirt that resulted from a good few weeks of being on the run. Though honestly, V would take the skewed hygiene of her time getting out of Atlanta, over the burning agony running through her body, any fucking day. _Fuck,_ everything hurt. But V forced herself to grin and bear it, offering a noncommittal noise as Jackie continued to rave about his mother’s cooking, hoping that he wouldn’t turn around and see her struggling- and cart her off to Viktor’s as a result. And she did pretty fucking well, for the most part, somehow managing to get herself upright without letting on how every exhausted joint was screaming at her. 

“You can handle spice, right?” Jackie drew V’s attention.

“Can handle...some.” V hoped her smile didn’t look too much like the grimace it really was.

“Shit, then we’re-” Jackie paused, moving until he was in the corner of V’s vision. “Not looking so hot. Knew they got a few hits in, but-”

“I’m fine. Just...been a long couple days.”

“Weeks, looks like.”

“Saying I look like shit?”

“Wouldn’t have put it like that, but-”

“I look like shit.”

“Better let Viktor see _you_ first.”

“Nah, I’ll-”

V found whatever she intended to say, died pretty fucking fast, her mouth no longer seeming to want to cooperate. And that was the first metaphorical domino to fall. Because when she realised she no longer had the strength to even talk, the rest of her body went along with it. Jackie’s words soon fell on deaf ears, whatever shit he was trying to say to her becoming muffled, before finally fading, and leaving V in an ominous silence. Well, an almost silence. The ringing in her ears seemed to echo louder without anything else to back it up, paired agonisingly with the steady thumps of pain in her head. That was quickly followed by her vision. Whilst V had been well aware of the darkness clawing in at the edges of her vision, as she spoke to Jackie, she’d hoped to stave it off a little longer. But here it was, getting ever closer, with what little she could still see bathed in a blur of nauseating static. Everything falling apart meant that the final domino to fall was a welcomed one; pain giving way to utter nothingness, leaving V numb to anything that was going on around her. 

_She’d been fighting the inevitable crash her body was headed for, because of guilt caused by her own fuckups._

_And now the bitches of fate and karma were working in unison, giving V a few moments of sheer panic before plunging her into darkness._

* * *

The next time V started coming to, it was the confusion that got to her before anything else. She could tell she was in some kind of car, judging by the slight bumps every now and then, so she definitely wasn’t in the chair in Viktor’s workshop. Which meant they were still on their way over, and she hadn’t been out that long. And that was why V was confused. She’d been in sheer fucking agony before she passed out, so waking up in the present should’ve been the same unpleasant experience. Not that she was complaining; even this weird sensation of weakness was better than what she’d felt before. Though it _was_ unnerving, being numb to almost everything around her. With that and about a dozen more fucked up thoughts running through her mind, V clawed her way back into awareness. She was now aware that she had no say on the subject of which ripperdoc Jackie would drag her to, because though she hated admitting it, she wouldn’t exactly be able to stop the guy from taking her to their mutual friend. But, V told herself, she could at least be conscious when they got there, so she didn’t look even more dead when Jackie dragged her onto Vik’s doorstep. So she could offer some kind of mildly delirious apology. Though that would do little against the anger V anticipated would come out of the old ripper. It’d take more than that to even begin to make up for the shit she’d pulled, but she could at least make a start. It’d be better than...well...nothing. Which is what Viktor had gotten from her in the past two months. 

“Coming round yet?” Jackie’s voice cut through her spiralling thoughts.

“Unfortunately.” V responded, grimacing both at how it grated on her bruised throat, _and_ how fucked up her voice sounded.

“Kinda scared me back there, you know?”

“Yeah…”

“Shit. Probably shouldn’t talk.”

On that, at least, V could agree. Talking was like her vocal chords were being dragged against sandpaper, every tiny swallow or breath straining skin drawn taut by heavy bruising. Fuck, silence was definitely an option this time around. At least until they got to Viktor’s workshop. V’s first words to him were going to be an apology, even if that was all she got out before she gave into the darkness currently tempting her. And fuck, was it tempting to just go back under. Because whatever magic shit Jackie had given her would wear off before long; she’d damn near overdosed on meds during her time in Atlanta and they just didn’t seem to work the same way towards the end. Meaning she’d be back to drowning in agony before long, fighting back tears as her body fought against her. And then there was the apology. Honestly, V had no idea what she was supposed to say. ‘ _I’m Sorry_ ’ didn’t even _begin_ the long-ass apology **and** explanation that Vik deserved from her.

Yeah, those combined definitely made the darkness seem more tempting. But V somehow managed to force herself to focus away from that, and finally open her eyes, turning her head slightly in the direction Jackie’s voice had come from. 

Everything was definitely way too fucking bright at first, but it luckily cleared up before too long, likely due to whatever meds she’d been given. Giving her a view of Jackie behind the wheel, who was gripping said steering wheel tight enough to show the whites of his knuckles. The visible concern was both touching and confusing- they barely knew each other, after all. _Hell, they really just had the stories that Viktor had told them of the other_ . Basically strangers. But V knew she had no right to question Jackie. Not really. Despite the fact they didn’t really know each other, he hadn’t left her in that back alley. No, he’d evidently either dragged or carried her out of there, all the way round to wherever he’d left his truck. ( _V could tell it was a truck by how it felt smoother than getting through the city in the busted up rentals she’d driven before Atlanta_ ) And he was driving her through a very familiar area of Night City. V had been round Vik’s neck of the woods more times than she’d ever be able to count. So, they were definitely headed to his workshop. V had known Jackie would take her there. Made sense- they both knew the old ripperdoc, and evidently trusted him implicitly.

Yeah, despite the returning weight of the guilt on her shoulders, and the nauseating numbness overtaking her system, V was somewhat grateful. Though it’d definitely be a pissed off _and_ disappointed face, Viktor’s familiar face would still be way better than the face of any of Night City’s other ripperdocs. Why she’d thought of going to anyone else was one of the many big fuck-ups she’d made in the past few months. As was the idea of hiding herself away.

Before long, the truck was grinding to a halt, and Jackie was turning to look at her. Once he saw she was still awake, the frown on his face seemed to lessen, albeit ever so slightly. Within a few moments, he was opening the drivers’ door, and hopping out. As the guy almost fucking jogged round the car, V braced herself. Because, as she’d suspected, whatever magic painkillers Jackie had given her were beginning to wear off. She just hoped it’d stave off the worst of the pain until she’d managed to get some kind of apology across to Viktor. The idea of just straight up passing out on the guy, showing up for the first time in months, two of those without contact? That just added to the guilt that had collected in her mind. So V forced herself to focus, and took as deep a breath as she could- turning in Jackie’s direction when he practically tore off the door on her side. He reached out to her, and she realised he was willing to carry her over to Vik’s workshop if he had to. 

Again, confusing; but no less touching. _Guy definitely had a good heart in his chest._ Something you rarely found in a place like Night City. V had no doubt that he wouldn’t even drop her in the slightest, but she wanted to at least get across the threshold on her own two feet. Even if said feet had to be supported. It’d be a fuck-tonne more painful than just letting Jackie carry her, but V was too damn _stubborn_. So she reluctantly adjusted herself in her seat, slowly swinging her legs round, until she was fully facing the guy. Bracing herself on the back of the seat, V slowly sat up, stomach churning dangerously when she felt the broken edges of her ribs grind together painfully. It was a disgusting sensation, and was definitely rushing back the pain, but V continued until she was upright. Getting the idea of what she was trying to do, Jackie helped V step down from the truck. The returning pain, and added height, made her stumble, but he stopped her from faceplanting into the concrete. And though there was a slight difference in height, they managed to work around it; V’s left arm over one of Jackie’s bulky shoulders, and his right arm around her middle. He took the brunt of her weight, but it didn’t even seem to phase him. 

Every joint step they took served to bring back the pain with a vengeance, but V just ground her teeth together, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She was missing damn near every other step, and leaning more on Jackie the closer they got to a familiar metal gate, but she managed to remain standing. And V was starting to feel pretty fucking confident in the idea of getting to apologise to Viktor _before_ passing out...until they got past the gate, and she saw a set of stairs she’d gone up and down countless times before. There was only about eight of them, but they might as well have been ten times that amount, because no fucking way was she going to be able to walk down those stairs. Even with Jackie’s support. Luckily, he seemed to realise the same thing, but also seemed to have enough sense that V was determined to stand on her own two feet. He got them to the top of the small flight, and between the two of them, they got V sat down on the top step. Getting back down was even more agonising than getting up, but she wasn’t going to complain. After all, had it not been for Jackie being as good of a person as Vik said he was, she’d be slowly bleeding out in some back alley. So she just put as much of her weight on the old railing as she could, and watched as Jackie jumped down the steps two at a time, before pulling open the iron divider that separated Viktor’s workshop from the rest of the alley. 

“Viktor!” Jackie looked relieved, just before he stepped inside.

“Didn’t I just patch you up yesterday-” Viktor paused. “Shit. What-”

“Not my blood.” Jackie reappeared in the doorway, glancing back up at V before redirecting his focus to Vik. “Need some help.”

When Jackie stepped out of the way, moving backwards, V took in as deep a breath as she could, only for it to backfire spectacularly. Showing that her body had quite literally the _worst_ timing, her attempt to take in a deep breath to steady even _some_ of her nerves had sent sharp spikes of agony running across her chest. Tired lungs expanded against broken ribs, making the sharpened edges move across one another, leaving her dealing with a series of painful coughs. Everything around V seemed to become fuzzy, with each shaky gasp of breath sapping what little energy remained in her body, forcing her to grip the worn railing for support. Luckily, it didn’t last that long, but the aftermath almost left her wishing it _had_ lasted longer. 

Because **fuck** , this was an entirely new level of pain. It left everything around V fuzzy for several terrifying moments, leaving her in a blurry mess of static and distant sounds until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Using that point of contact to ground herself, V somehow managed to focus, though tears were still pooling in the corners of her eyes by the time it all became clear again. Blinking rapidly to clear said tears from her vision, she could finally lift her head. And, of course, there was one Viktor Vector. He looked exhausted, and that just added to her guilt. The old ripper had evidently had one of his busier days, and here she was to make it ten times worse, showing up beaten _half to death_ on his doorstep after not even a _word_ for _two months_.

“Vik.” V forced herself to speak; she could see the darkness clawing at the edges of her vision again, and she’d be damned if she passed out before she got to get out some form of apology. 

“Shouldn’t talk, V.” Viktor kept his voice low, his other hand gently moving to examine her face. “Look like you got dragged to hell and back.”

“About...sums it up.” V ignored the warning. “Look...I’m-”

“I’m serious, kid.”

“Just-”

“V-”

“Trying to...say _sorry_ , Vik.”

There was a hell of a lot more she wanted to say, but V had to give in and let that be it, because every word she spoke made the darkness take over more of her vision, leaving what little was left behind in a swathe of static. She didn’t even get time to see Viktor’s face after that apology, to know whether or not he could hear how fucking sorry she was. Because while that was only a handful of words, V had put every last piece of her energy into them. _Which sounded really fucking sappy_ , but it was true. The situation she was in was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid ever since she stepped off the train; turning up after two solid months of zero contact, beaten half to death on her best friend’s doorstep. 

And now she was about to make the whole thing ten times worse, by passing out unceremoniously before Viktor could even respond.

_Waking up was going to be pretty fucking painful, in more ways than one._

* * *

_“She going to be ok, Vik?”_

_“Might take a while, but...should be through the worst of it.”_

_“Scared the shit out of me, y’know?”_

_“You and me both, Jack. You got any idea what happened?”_

_“Know the beatdown we took didn’t do all this.”_

_“So she took on a job-”_

_“When she was already pretty fucked up.”_

_“Know why she took the damn job, at least?”_

_“Pepe owed a chunk of eddies to Kirk. Couldn’t pay, so Kirk says he’d break the guys legs. V stepped up.”_

_“How’d you end up in the middle of it?”_

_“Kirk must’ve gotten a good look at her. Figured she might not get the job done.”_

_“Which is where-”_

_“I come in. Problem is, Kirk didn’t tell us there was anyone else.”_

_“Cops show up after.”_

_“Not just any cop. Detective Stints.”_

_“That old friend of yours from Heywood?”_

_“Not much of a friend these days. Didn’t think twice when his guys started beating down on us.”_

_“She should’ve come to me first.”_

_“Yeah, not sure why she didn’t. Makes no fucking sense.”_

_“Think I know why.”_

_“And? Gonna leave me hanging here, Vik?”_

_“Long story.”_

_“Got nowhere to be. So...”_

* * *

_"How's she doing, Viktor?"_

_"Better."_

_"She looked pretty bad."_

_"Worst I've seen her in a while."_

_"But she's going to be ok. You can relax a little."_

_"Don't think I can."_

_"You're upset-"_

_"Not just upset, Misty. Pissed off. Kid disappears for two months, then shows up like this?"_

_"I'm sure V had her reasons...for staying quiet."_

_"Whatever the reason-"_

_"It won't be good enough, huh?"_

_"V's a grown woman. Wouldn't tell her how to live her life."_

_"But you like to know she's out there living it."_

_"Yeah. Just...damn it, V."_

_"Why don't you take a break, Viktor? I can make us some coffee-"_

_"I'm good. Think I'll just stay here."_

_"She's not going anywhere. Said it yourself, it'll be a few hours before she starts coming around."_

_"I'm not leaving."_

_"I could bring the coffee down here? I can sit with you, so you're not alone?"_

_"I'll be-"_

_"It's ok to_ _not_ _be ok, you know? V's a good friend. You care about her. She disappeared, and now she's back...like this."_

_"Can't get anything past you, Misty."_

_"So, I'll bring the coffee down? I can find somewhere to sit."_

_"That'd be...that'd be good...thanks."_

* * *

The next time V started waking up, pieces of barely heard dialogue swimming in her head, was a hell of a lot less painful than she thought it’d be. There was definitely still a throbbing ache that seemed focused on the heavier bruised parts of her body, and the rest still felt kind of numb, but it was so much fucking better than it’d been the last time she came to. It was enough that she could actually take in a breath without feeling like she was one wrong move away from internally stabbing herself in the lung; even able to take a few deep breaths to brace herself. Yeah, it still took a few moments for everything to come back to her, with exhaustion now clawing at the edges of her mind, but after those moments? She was slowly able to open her eyes. At first, everything was a blur of static, the way it had been just before she passed out that last time. 

But then, after a number of slow, drawn out blinks, everything seemed to clear up. Before long, V was greeted by a bittersweet, familiar sight- the ceiling of Vik’s workshop. Evidently, he was long done treating her, as the lights were nowhere near as harsh as they would be, had he still been working. And that was a fucking godsend. Because whilst whatever meds he had her on were _definitely_ working their magic, V knew too bright a light would bring back that burning headache with a fucking vengeance. Exhaling slowly, at the relief of not being greeted with light that didn’t make her want to pass out again, V slowly turned her head- only to have to stop halfway to the left. Moving meant that the bruises around her neck were pulled taut. They definitely weren’t as harsh as they’d been when she first got back to the city, but it still made everything pretty damn uncomfortable. So she stayed, head awkwardly turned, until she heard some movement in the direction she’d tried to turn.

Before long, the question of who that was, was answered pretty quickly; as Vik was soon appearing in her line of vision. He looked even more exhausted than he had before, with dark circles visible beneath the frame of his glasses, which brought back the nauseating sense of guilt back to V like she’d been sucker-punched in the gut.

“How’re you feeling?” Viktor asked cautiously, keeping his voice low.

“Better…” V grimaced at how speaking still tugged slightly at the bruising round her throat.

“Would give you more for the pain, but…” Viktor shook his head, exhaling slowly. “I can’t, kid.”

“I know. It’s….that’s on me.” V forced a smile onto her face.

“The hell were you thinking?”

“There’s-”

“I’ve shown you enough over the past couple years. You know how to...you should be taking better care of yourself.”

“I know, Vik.”

“Do you, V? Because the way you looked up in the alley-”

“Worst you’ve seen me, I know.”

“Heard that conversation?”

“Bits and pieces. It’s all...kind of...fuzzy?”

“Not surprised. Damn near cracked your skull.”

“Feels like it.”

“Just...what were you doing in Atlanta? To end up like that?”

“Long story…”

“Look, kid. Not going to ask for all the details. Just...think I’d like to know why you disappeared.”

“About that-”

“Was starting to think...maybe you weren’t coming back.”

“I’ll always...find my way back, Vik.”

“Want to believe you.”

“But...you don’t.”

When she only received a heavy sigh in response, V forced herself to turn her head the rest of the way, so she could look at Viktor properly. Her vision swam dangerously, colours tangling into a blur, but she didn’t stop, not until the ripperdoc was fully in her line of sight. Under the mixture of lights, from the many illuminated monitors and odd neon pieces in the workshop, she was able to see him properly. Before, she’d been able to see the exhaustion, told in the tale of heavily emphasized dark rings under his eyes. Now? Every detail was rendered in guilt-inducing clarity. What she saw, she knew didn’t come from a hard day. Or even several, in fact. No, this was something else entirely; and V knew what it was. The shades of dark purple under Viktor’s eyes weren’t the only signs. Behind his glasses, eyes that normally seemed bright even beneath the tinted lenses were fucking _bloodshot,_ like he hadn’t had a decent nights sleep in a good few weeks. Vik was gripping the monitors so tightly, as he examined the plethora of information on display, that the whites of his knuckles were starting to show through.

It seemed as if he was trying to ground himself, and possibly even hold himself upright, skin even seeming to have taken on an ashen shade. That, and the way his shoulders had dipped lower as the moments ticked by, hit V with such a sucker-punch of guilt that she found tears showing up in the corners of her eyes.

The old ripperdoc didn’t just look exhausted.

No.

It was a hundred times worse than anything V had tried picturing on her way back to the city- he looked like he’d seen a goddamn _ghost_.

“Shit.” V ignored the spikes of pain running up her throat. “Weren’t starting to think...I wasn’t coming back. You…”

“Thought you were gone, kid.” Viktor ran his non-gloved hand down his face, taking a deep breath. 

V had been beaten half to death, almost drunk herself to get past the other half, and damn near overdosed on meds to keep herself going. She was sporting broken ribs, cracked who knows how many others, and her skin was a patchwork of bruises; in a kaleidoscope of shades. Infected and weeping wounds formed a cross stitch over said patchwork. And her skull had pretty much just fucking cracked. But none of that hurt as much as what she’d just heard. She’d dreaded hearing what Vik had just said, but knew ever since she cut contact that it’d be a possibility. Barely a day or two went by, normally, before they’d hear from one another. Given V’s small circle of friends, she spent half her time with the old ripperdoc. So yeah, she’d known as soon as she stopped sending so much as a text that he’d end up thinking the worst. And fuck, did that hurt. Not that she blamed Vik for that. Never in a million fucking years would she blame him. But still, having it all confirmed hurt. If hurt could even accurately describe what V was feeling. Though she knew it was secondary to what her friend was feeling. He’d started thinking she was dead, having kicked the bucket in a strange city full of strangers; likely alone and in some back alley or rundown motel. ( _Which had been a possibility too many times for V to coun_ t.) And he’d probably started going down that train of thought some time ago. Fuck, he’d literally been asking around after her. Wanting to know anything, or just hear _something_ that would disprove the idea of her being gone. 

“Two months. Nothing. Not like you.” Viktor’s voice cut into V’s almost rambling thoughts.

“I...I know.” V blinked rapidly to clear her vision, which had started blurring from building tears.

“Asked after you.” Viktor turned his head slightly, an unreadable expression on his face. “Think Ibarra knew something. More than I did. He figured you’d be back.”

“And you didn’t.”

“Can’t blame me for that, V.”

“I don’t-”

“Couple words. That’s all you…” 

“I know I fucked up, Vik.”

“One way to put it.”

“I should’ve said something...anything-”

“Just...what was worth ending up like this?”

“It’s a-”

“Long story, I know. And like I said, I don’t expect all of it. Just...want to understand why you did what you did.”

“Why I...disappeared.”

“And turned up two months later, beaten half to death.” Viktor finally turned to fully face her, hands leaving the monitors as he crossed his arms.

“Vik…” V took as deep a breath as she could. “I’ll…”

She’d replayed countless times over in her head, all the shit that had gone down in Atlanta, and had often wondered how the hell she was supposed to get through telling anyone about it. Because what she did, though it was done to people who deserved it, was still pretty fucked up. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d done the right thing; the doubt was over the extremes she had gone to. V felt like they deserved all that was coming to them, but she knew her methods wouldn’t be well-received by everyone. Padre understood her need for vengeance, but V knew even he would struggle to deal with all the details. Pepe? V wasn’t even going to try telling him. Guy had a kid to worry about, and that kids’ nightmares. Didn’t need to cause any of his own by listening to her. And Viktor? _She wanted to tell him everything, because her extended disappearance had affected him the most._ He was her closest friend, after all, and had in many ways helped her become who she was today. Without him, she’d be even more fucked up. And for fuck’s sake, he thought she’d died up there in Atlanta.

He, more than anyone, deserved the full explanation, but V was just worried about how he’d take it. Whether he’d still look at her the same way, as the friend he’d known these past few years, or someone entirely different. Vik knew from V’s drunken recants of her exploits that she was no stranger to the more extreme sides of violence, as was Viktor himself, but what happened in Atlanta definitely went beyond all of that. V didn’t honestly know how the fuck to get started. He’d go from thinking she was dead, to seeing her _near_ death on his doorstep- and then know she’d basically gone psychotic. On people who deserved it, sure, but the methods were still more than questionable. 

“V?” Viktor’s voice drew her out of her spiralling thoughts. “You-”

“I’m ok.” V forced a smile onto her face. “Just...working out how to...explain everything, I guess.”

“Know you’re in a hell of a lot of pain.”

“Not...wrong there.”

“Whatever you’ve got to say, can wait until you’re not dealing with a cracked skull.”

“I ghosted you for two months, Vik. you...you deserve to know why I didn’t have my head on straight. And this...it isn’t an excuse.”

“But it’s a reason.”

“Yeah. Does that make sense?”

“Makes enough sense.”

“Alright. Then…I said before I left that this was personal. Wasn’t lying about that.”

“Also said it was a job. Guessing it wasn’t.”

“No. but it’s something I’ve been...working towards, for...a long fucking time.” V took a deep breath. “Know I mentioned my parents a few times.”

“You don’t talk about them much.” Viktor ducked out of view for a moment, before dragging over a chair and taking a seat next to her.

“Few reasons why. Not their...not their fault. They were pretty damn...good.” V found a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “We had this tiny shop...on the corner of an old street off Heywood. Place started getting bought out by this corp. Like everything else...in this city. We were the last ones left, before long.”

“Guessing you never wanted to pack up. I wouldn’t want to leave either.”

“My old man worked too hard to keep that shop running. Fuck, just flat out refused every offer they sent him.” V felt the smile become less forced, even if only for a moment. “Then one day, the offers stop. But a bunch of mercs showed up in their place. Corp had enough.”

“They try to force you out?”

“Didn’t try anything. Just...started shooting.”

“I...I’m sorry, kid.” Viktor leant back in the chair, crossing his arms. “That’s...don’t know what to…”

“Don’t need to say anything, Vik.”

“Just...I’m no good at this stuff. Want to help, but-”

“Honestly, just...having you listening is...something I didn’t think would happen.”

“Always going to be here, V.”

“Didn’t think you...would be, after...everything.”

“V-”

“Having you listening...that’s...more than good enough for me.”

“Still, wish I knew what the hell to say to that.”

“Yeah, it’s...one shitty story. To...say the least. But...yeah...just having you listening? It helps, y’know?”

“Then I’m all ears, kid.” Viktor smiled awkwardly.

Okay, so he was trying to make her feel better, but honestly? It was just making her worse. Because despite everything, he was there. After everything he’d done for her over the years, she’d up and disappeared. Cut all contact for a solid two months, then turned up on his doorstep half dead; only to pass out a few moments later with barely a fucking word said to him. Yeah, somehow despite all _that_ , there he was. Almost like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t been thinking she was dead. Like she hadn’t treated him in a way no friend deserved; much less a friend like Viktor. Fuck. The guilt was honestly real fucking close to stabbing her in the chest with how much it hurt. But she had to keep talking. Even if doing so, and seeing her friend’s reassuring expression, made the weight on her shoulders all the heavier.

“Yeah, started fucking shooting.” V took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment to stop the tears from falling. “And they didn’t stop. Only reason...that I made it? Both my...folks...well, they shielded me. And the reason...I didn’t die with them...is because the cops showed up.” 

“...always show up too late.” Viktor leaned back in his chair.

“That’s Night City...for you.” V smiled sadly. “Stuck in the hospital...for a while. Bills got paid. Anonymous donor. Found out a while later it was the corp. Same fucking corp that put me there.”

“Doesn’t make much sense.” Viktor frowned. 

“Found out they did that...because they figured I’d...I don’t know- block all that shit out? That I wouldn’t remember it all, something like that.” V sighed. “After that, nowhere else to go...so got shoved in this kids home.”

“And those are…”

“Shit? Fucking understatement. But...made it, till I could get my own place. Worked my...ass off.” V exhaled slowly. “Soon as I had...my own stuff...started tracking them down.”

“The mercs?”

“And the shithead suits that...hired them. Mercs...easy enough to find. They’re...long dead.”

“Should’ve said something. Could’ve-”

“Got used to keeping things to myself.” V interrupted tactfully. “Should’ve told you...years ago. I know that now.”

“And the suits?”

“Corp changed names, bounced across...the US. Took years, but...found them all. In, well…”

“Atlanta.”

“Fucking Atlanta, yeah.”

“They all dead?”

“Every last one. That’s...how I ended up like this. Finding them? Brought back...alot of shit I’ve kept buried.”

“That when you stopped taking care of yourself? Got beat to hell?”

“Pretty much. Not going to...lie to you, Vik. Not...not now. Went pretty far off the...fucking deep end.”

“I can see that. How many times did you-” Viktor took a deep breath. “If I’d given you anymore anaesthesia...could’ve flatlined you, V.”

“I know.”

“Could’ve died back in Atlanta.”

“And you...wouldn’t have known. Because I...stopped fucking...talking. I’m…”

Though the past few minutes talking with Viktor had made her throat and lungs burn with pain, V had pushed all of it to the back of her mind. At least, she had been. Now? Now it was getting to the point where it was fucking unbearable. And there was still so much more she wanted to say to the old ripper. Get the gruesome details off her chest, let on just how close she’d been to giving up, when one near-overdose got her too close to the edge. But she just couldn’t speak another goddamn word, even if it was painful just to admit that. _It was so fucking frustrating._ Enough that the frustration threatened to spill the tears that had been building in the corners of her eyes. Exhaling slowly, V managed to reign in her emotions. She knew Vik wouldn’t judge her for that, but she’d already given him enough grief for one night. Turned up after two months beaten up, unceremoniously passed out on him, then dropped one hell of a fucked up story. _A story she couldn’t even finish._

“V?” Viktor got up out of his chair, to check his monitors.

“Sorry…” V felt shards of pain shoot through her throat. 

“Pain getting bad?”

“...yeah.”

“Wish I could give you something else.”

“I know. Not...your fault.”

“Just...shit, V…” Vik sank back down into his chair. 

“...it’s alot.” V managed to get out.

“Bit of an understatement.” Vik’s expression turned, looking somehow even more exhausted than he had been a few moments ago. “I’m sorry, kid. Didn’t deserve any of that.”

“Not...all bad. Got to...meet you.” V cleared her throat, grimacing internally as it further aggravated the rising sense of pain- before what she said actually computed in her head. “Fuck. That...was the sappiest shit...ever.”

Despite the pain, V couldn’t help but smile, which quickly turned into laughter. What she’d just said sounded like something out of a retro Hallmark movie, completely out of left fucking field. That, and the way she’d started laughing despite it all, seemed to break any of the lingering tension in the room; because Viktor had started laughing too. Started as a few trademark chuckles, mouth in his signature crooked smile, but was soon just...plain fucking laughter. It was the last thing V had expected to hear from the guy, considering how she’d left things, and how she’d turned up, _but there was no way in hell she was complaining._ At least, until the pain started. Before long, her body decided to cut in on the fun, and the laughter started to tug at the bruises on her throat- alongside the now inescapable pain lacing up and down her ribs. V tried to focus past it all, and get her breathing back to a level where she _didn’t_ feel like she was choking, but her body just didn’t want to cooperate. 

_Karma really was a bitch._

**_A real fucking bitch._ **

But V had really brought it all down on herself. 

Pretty much all of the physical damage could have been avoided. The skills of the suits’ bodyguards and their mercs didn’t even match up to hers; she’d seen to that through years of struggling. She’d gotten careless as rage blinded her. And then V had made it all worse by neglecting the aftercare for said damage. Definitely brought all the shit in the present down on herself. Internally beating herself up wouldn’t help her, she soon realised- and so V forced herself to focus. In the midst of her thoughts and the haze of agony, she’d been pretty much deaf and blind to what was going on around her, unable to feel anything beyond the pain. It wasn’t until something was fixed over her face, and cold air rushed through her, that the agony brought on by just fucking _breathing_ was finally dulled down. Several more moments passed, but eventually the pain and resulting panic slowed. With additional oxygen working its way through her lungs ( _thanks to some kind of half mask_ ), both that and how cold said oxygen was soothing her throat and aching chest, V was finally able to fully refocus. Namely, on the familiar ceiling, and Viktor’s worried face off to the side of her vision. The pain was still all too present throughout her body, but having that support and something cold against the bruising in her throat brought it down, to where she could finally deal with it.

“Probably...shouldn’t laugh again…” V cracked a weak smile.

“That’s about the third heart attack you’ve given me tonight, kid.” Viktor heaved a sigh of relief- V turning her head as he settled back down in his chair. 

“Sorry, Vik.”

“You’ve apologized enough.”

“Thought there’d be...more yelling involved.”

“Saving it for when you don’t have a cracked skull.”

“...fair enough.”

“You know, about another hour, and I can give you something. For the pain. Not much, but...something.”

“Eh...made it this far.”

“Barely.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s the truth, V.”

“...you got me there, Vik.” V took a deep breath, exhaling slowly afterward as the cold air soothed her. “So...don’t think I can...do much talking...for a while. But you can talk.”

“About what?” Viktor straightened up in his chair.

“What I missed...out on...by being a selfish asshole.”

“Alright, kid. Well...guess I just need to figure out where to start.”

* * *

You could say a hell of a lot of things about Night City, but boring definitely wasn’t one of them. Turns out, V had missed some serious shit going down. Gangs had been at each others throats when she left, but that was nothing new; rival standoffs were a part of daily life for those trying to get by on the streets. But not long after she’d yet, something happened with Maelstrom. They’d struck a deal with 6th Street for some army tech they wanted to rework, but somewhere along the line, someone fucked up- and a bloodbath broke out. That in itself wasn’t anything new; the deal going wrong or ending in a fight. What _was_ new, and what started making the gang violence threaten to escalate even further, was that during all that mess, Maelstrom’s chaotic head had been gunned down. That, as it turns out, had been like chucking a bunch of fuel on an open flame- things had just exploded. With two of Night City’s major gangs at each others’ throats, so much as a passing glance at rival members causing further chaos, the other gangs had jumped in on the action. No taking sides, of course. No two groups ever made an alliance. At least, not one that lasted more than a day or two. Nah, the remaining gangs had decided to make a move, hoping to use the frenetic craze between 6th Street and Maelstrom to push in on their territories. And, of course, with more and more people jumping into the mix, it all escalated into full blown war.

Cops didn’t intervene for a while, of course. 

Whole fucking city was one big powder keg waiting to blow, after all. Which let the chaos fester and spread, with Maelstrom and 6th Street fighting not only each other, but also defending their territories with a vengeance. And everyone else fighting for whatever scraps of said territories they could get their dirty hands on. All that meant that bodies started piling up pretty fucking fast. And for Night City, that really was saying something. A fuck tonne of bodies, and many more close to being bodies themselves, meant every goddamn ripperdoc in the city had been swamped. Many weren’t keen on treating the many gang members that came through their doors, especially those with spaces in certain territories, as it would bring more trouble than it was worth- but they caved in eventually. Trail of patients was almost never-ending, and considering how V was learning about all this, treating any of the gang members had a pretty solid advantage.

People got real fucking chatty when they were high on meds, after all; meaning that rippers got to work out a way to make it through all the chaos. Heard some pretty useful shit that kept them from becoming just another body, themselves. 

So yeah, things really went to hell for a good few weeks. Until almost a month ago, when an altercation between Maelstrom and 6th Street resulted in the death of some of ‘Night City’s Finest’. Of course, _that_ was when the boys in blue decided to intervene. Which only ended up making things worse. Half the force was pretty much dirty and corrupt, and those that were left weren’t exactly angels themselves either. Throw them into the mix, and that’s when shit truly hit the proverbial fan. Suits hit back against the gangs, and the gangs just kept on hitting back. Before long, regular folks going about their day-to-day began contributing to the casualties. Which forced MAX-TAC to intervene. And fuck, did that just make things worse. They were a force to be reckoned with, and tangling with them was just bad fucking news. You did _not_ want to be on the receiving end of whatever they were carrying.

But that just made the gangs amp up their defenses, and take out the literal big guns. For a solid few weeks, City was practically a fucking warzone. Curfews and all. Not that people really listened to that shit, but hey. V was surprised she hadn’t heard about any of it earlier, until Viktor went on to say that things had quietened down over the past two weeks. Seemed like the gangs had taken on one too many casualties, and in the midst of the heat brought down by the cops and their armoured chooms, had made a ( _more than likely_ ) temporary retreat. Slunk back to their hideouts to lick their wounds, and all that. Curfew had been lifted a couple days ago. Given that, V figured why she hadn’t heard shit from Ibarra or Pepe. ( _Other than the fact they were definitely more concerned with her. Something V still couldn’t wrap her head around_ ) People were keeping their mouths fucking shut, not wanting things to explode again. Yet, at least. Things would kick back up soon enough- Night City was one fucked up cycle of chaos. For now though, people could make their way through the streets with a slightly lessened chance of being caught in some skirmish. Slightly, because you could just get hit with a stray bullet at any given moment. One of the oh so lovely perks of the city they’d all chosen to live in. 

Other than dealing with a long list of clients, who were described as such pains in the asses that ‘difficult’ was a vast fucking understatement, Viktor had been keeping up with his workouts and boxing- like always. He’d gone out for more than a few drinks with Jackie, and had spent a good few nights just sitting and drinking coffee while talking to Misty- who V now knew as Jackie’s girlfriend. And not just the mildly peculiar chick who ran the Esoterica above Viktor’s workshop. He had more than a few decent sparring matches, with one that particularly stood out and actually gave V pause. No, fuck it. Didn’t just give her pause. Made her almost sit up straight, wanting to make sure she’d heard Vik right. Jackie and Viktor had gone toe-to-toe in a few fights, and somehow _Vik_ had been the one that almost got knocked out with a _single fucking punch_ . Ok, now V was pretty damn grateful she’d gotten on the good side of the man Viktor spoke so often of. If this guy could almost knock out _Viktor Vector_ with a _single_ punch, he was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

Which seemed kind of strange, honestly. Yeah, when you got a look at Jackie, you could see the guy worked out.

And V had seen his tougher side with the whole Aerondight shitshow.

But most of the time he seemed like a pretty chill guy. Not someone who could take you out in one punch.

_Well, appearances could definitely be deceiving, as the saying went._

“...and that’s about it.” Viktor finished up, standing up to check his monitors- before glancing at his phone. “How we doing, V?”

“...not gonna lie. Like shit, honestly.” V admitted. “But...listening to you? Helped. A Lot, Vik.”

“What are friends for?” Viktor smiled tiredly, before reaching to the cabinets behind the glaring screens. “Can give you something for the pain now. Not much, but-”

“I’ll take...whatever I can get.”

“Shouldn’t take long before it kicks in. Cocktail of meds you’ve taken over the past…” Viktor took a deep breath. “Anyway...should be close to wearing off.”

“Fuck.” V exhaled slowly, as a familiar rush of anesthetic kicked in, the routine jab of the needle plunging into her skin barely even registering.

_Yeah, what Vik gave her wasn’t anywhere near close to covering everything…_

_But she could at least breathe now, without feeling like she was being stabbed in the chest._

_Head wasn’t spinning quite as much either._

_She still felt like shit, but it was a hell of a lot better than what it had been building to over the past hour._

_How she hadn’t passed out, V wasn’t entirely sure._

_Wasn’t going to question it, in any case._

“Missed...a lot.” V sighed, when her body finally relaxed a little. 

“Bit of an understatement.” Viktor sat back down, leaning back in his chair with a tired sigh.

“Yeah. Shit. I mean...ok...gang wars not that surprising.” V explained. “You almost getting knocked out...with one punch? Damn. Wish...wish I’d seen that.”

“What, wish you’d seen me get knocked down?” Viktor sounded amused.

“You know what I mean.”

“I know, kid.”

“Sorry I...missed all that.”

“Apologised enough.”

“Don’t think I’ll ever...be able to do that. Definitely...owe you that...yelling...you wanted to do.”

“Might regret that.”

“Eh, maybe.”

Finding a full, genuine smile making its way onto her face for the first time in weeks, V watched as Viktor finally relaxed back in his chair, shoulders no longer as high as they were when she first woke up. He looked a hell of a lot more at ease. Still pretty fucking exhausted, but no longer like he’d seen a ghost. And that started to lift at the guilt weighing on V’s shoulders. It’d be a while before that went away, and that was fine with her. That would just keep on emphasising how she couldn’t fucking do this again. Couldn’t just disappear. The circle of people that gave a shit about her...hell...was barely even half a circle, but that was still a group of people who cared. And they deserved better. Especially the old ripperdoc. Yeah, V wasn’t going to do this to him again. Even if it meant losing precious time in running away from whatever shit she’d gotten into, she would always make sure to let him know she was coming back from said shitstorm. 

“Ey, Viktor!” a familiar voice echoed through the workshop, startling V out of her thoughts- and Vik, if the way he’d abruptly moved was any indication.

“Jackie.” Viktor leant back, exhaling slowly, taking a moment to himself before getting up. “Help you with something?”

“Got all this food- don’t want to lose it!” Jackie spoke back, voice raised. “My mama would kill me if I dropped her chilli.”

“She would.” Viktor actually chuckled, before heading towards the door. “Stay there, kid.”

“Couldn’t move…even if I wanted to.” V waved him off.

“Said that last time you got into a fight you barely walked out of.” Viktor turned to face her, when he reached the doorway. “Then you still tried rolling out of your seat.”

“...and faceplanted on the ground. Broke my fucking nose.” V found herself laughing despite it all. “I remember. Won’t...make that mistake again.”

“Sure about that?”

“Go get the damn food before he drops it. I don’t...want to be responsible for Senora Welles dragging...your ass. Said it yourself, she’d kill Jackie if-”

“Alright, alright.” Viktor cut in, shaking his head fondly.

Within a few moments, he was out of sight; and V took the brief time to herself to lay back. Honestly, her return to Night City was about as far from her expectations as possible. She’d been so intent on heading back to her apartment, meaning she’d be drunk off her as now, and veering close to overdosing on meds to keep from seeing Vik. Now? Here she was, in his workshop. Having mended some of the damage she’d inflicted by disappearing, and feeling more at ease than she had in weeks. _Fuck, was she lucky_. Sure, Viktor still had a lot of yelling to do at her, which she knew was coming when her skull no longer throbbed like she’d gone on a crawl through every goddamn bar in the city, but it was...yeah...far from what she’d expected.

“Not dying after all!” Jackie’s voice cut in.

“The fu-” V was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts, both by the interruption and how damn _loud_ he was being.

_Okay, he probably wasn’t even being that loud at all._

_Just sounded ten times worse than what it was._

_Cracked skull would do that to you._

Exhaling slowly, V turned in his direction, surprised that he’d gotten down before Viktor- but only for a moment. The ripper was probably deliberately taking his sweet ass time bringing the rest of the food down. Which he more than deserved. There was a hell of a lot to go through. He’d gone from thinking she was dead, to seeing her turn up half dead on his fucking doorstep- after which she’d delivered one clusterfuck of a reason why. Yeah, he deserved more than a few minutes to start wrapping his head around it all.

“Said something about chilli?” V focused fully on Jackie, noticing a large plastic container in his hands. 

“Figured you weren’t going to make it to lunch.” Jackie sat down in Viktor’s chair, mindful of the container. “Turns out I was right.”

“Yeah, it’s been...few hours, right?” V grimaced.

“More than a few. Dead of fucking night, now.”

“...shit. Sorry.”

“Just glad you’re awake, you know?” 

“Why? Barely know each other.”

“Because Viktor would’ve been fucked up if you weren’t.”

“Yeah, I...messed up.”

“Big time.”

“He tell you much?”

“Eh, enough.”

“And you still brought leftovers.”

“Not going to lie, what you did was-”

“Fucked up?”

“Yeah. Fucked up. But we’ve all screwed up at some point, right?”

“...some of us more than most.”

“Well...no one’s perfect.”

“True enough. So...why you here?”

“Just wanted to know something.”

“...and?”

“Making sure you don’t do that kind of thing again.” Jackie leant back in the chair. “You know, thought _something_ was up with Viktor.”

“But you didn’t know what.” V surmised.

“No. Just saw him looking all fucking depressed. Wouldn’t tell me what was going on with him.”

“Well...now you know.”

“Not gonna happen again, right?”

“This why you came down first? To give me...a lecture?”

“Yeah...guess so. Kinda weird, right?”

“Honestly? No. You’re just...looking out for your friend. That’s what...that’s what you _should_ do.”

Seemingly satisfied, Jackie got up out of his chair, before looking around Viktor’s workshop. Once he spied an unused side table, he started heading over- before pausing, and looking down at the container of chilli in his arms.

“Let me hold that.” V spoke up, sitting up as much as her body would allow.

“Think you can handle it?” Jackie turned, an eyebrow quirked up.”

“I can hold...a container of fucking...chilli.”

“Sure about that? Look like you’re about to-”

“If you don’t...pass the fucking chilli...I’m going to get up...and get that table myself.”

“Both know that’s not happening.”

“Want to bet?”

“Alright, alright!”

As soon as the container was safely in her hands, V pulled it closer to her. Somehow, fucking thing was still pretty hot. But it wasn’t anything she couldn’t deal with. Besides, the amazing scent of a goddamned myriad of spices and herbs coming out of the container was fucking insane. Made dealing with the contents almost burning her seem bearable.

“Doing ok?” Jackie asked, as he started dragging the table over.

“One more...goddamn word…” V started chuckling. “And I dump this fucking chilli...over your head.”

“You do that, we’re both dead.”

“Worse ways to go.”

“...sure about that, V?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. Chapter 2. That’s basically the setting-up almost done.
> 
> Next chapter will feature the modified first lunch with Jackie, and then one more chapter with an actual meal with Mama Welles. Then we can really get into some Jackie/V friendship stuff, and include our favourites Misty and Viktor too.
> 
> As well as some of the other amazing NPCs from this game.
> 
> I’ve got some really good stuff planned. There will still be some V-centric stuff here and there, but for the most part?
> 
> Well, I’ve got 6 months of time-skip to cover.
> 
> And I’m really excited.


	3. Late Night Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V had gotten used to shutting people out. Was easier that way, not letting people see what was going on with her. Sitting in Viktor's workshop, and eating Mama Welles chilli, talking with Jackie like she'd known him for years...she was starting to see how she'd been wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. Some good Jackie content. This is some general feel good shit, a filler if you will. Dialogue heavy, but I do like doing some dialogue-focused stuff on occasion. Looking forward to moving on with this series; it's been fun exploring my Vs character.
> 
> Warning: This hasn't been beta-read as I didn't want to bug my friend again lmao.

This wasn’t how V had thought her evening would go. When Night City first came into view on the horizon, when she was stuck on the crowded train, V had been so sure of how things were going to go. She’d make her way off the train, through whichever death trap station she ended up in, and struggle back to her apartment, hopefully without attracting any kind of attention. Accomplishing the latter had been something V was pretty sure would go wrong. It was Night City, after all. You could step outside your door with every intention of just going about your day, but sooner or later you’d be dragged into some kind of shitstorm. Which, more often than not, wouldn’t be something minor; it’d be something that ended up with you struggling to a ripper, or lying cold in a body bag. That sort of chaos was part of the fucked-up parcel that was living in one of America’s last ‘great’ cities, where gang violence and corporate corruption reigned supreme. 

But still, despite all of that, she’d definitely have tried. And in the unlikely event she made it back to her apartment without fracturing into further fucked up pieces, she’d force her bruised and battered body through a shower, before heading to the kitchen to drown herself in alcohol. Normally, after a job, she’d go for the good stuff. Or, as good as her money could buy. But that day? She’d choose whatever was within reach; the numerous injuries littering her body weren’t going to give her any other option. Then, once she was sufficiently shit faced on whatever she’d drunk, she’d stuff some greasy takeout in her mouth...and then promptly collapse into bed. If she ever made it up the stairs- it had been more likely that she’d just peace out on the sofa. With her injuries, she wasn’t going to be making it up the stairs any time soon. And that was fine with V. Or she’d thought it was fine, at least. Yeah, she’d repeat that routine until she could walk around without worrying about outright passing out, studiously avoiding the inevitable confrontation with the few friends she had, after ghosting them for a couple months... and then go back to business as usual. It would’ve made for one shitty homecoming, but V had been ok with that. It was what she deserved. 

Where she was now though? About as far from what she’d expected as humanly possible. But she wasn’t complaining. No, you’d have to be even more fucked in the head than her, to complain about this. It was definitely more domestic than a majority of V’s life was, but she found herself welcoming it. Sure, she’d been subjected to a kind of impromptu lecture from Jackie about treating their mutual friend like shit, but even that had been bearable. After all, V knew she’d seriously fucked up where Viktor was concerned, so she’d just taken what got thrown at her. Not that it was thrown with any sort of anger. More disappointment than anything else. Plus, Jackie didn’t seem like he was going to hold it over her. Once V had made it clear she had no intentions of fucking up again, or like she had the last few months at least, he’d happily backed off. 

And, after some entertaining banter whilst he set up a table for the chilli, they’d settled into an oddly companionable atmosphere. It was enough that V found herself being the one to initiate the conversation. Normally, it was the other side that did most of the talking, because she was preferred to kind of linger in the background. But something about the way that she and Jackie had talked, like they’d known each other for far more than the few hours in reality, made her open her mouth. That, and the fact she couldn’t stand the idea of silence. V knew the second things went quiet, her mind would be back to running a thousand miles a minute, and she’d have a list of things to confront that went a hundred miles longer. So yeah, the dread of silence was greater than her usual inability to start a conversation.

“So…” V cleared her throat, grimacing as it tugged on tired muscle. “Hear you...almost knocked Vik out? Single punch?”

“He tell you ‘bout that?” Jackie turned to V with a grin. 

“Yeah. And...have to say...how?” V found herself smiling in return. “Guy’s a fucking tank.”

“Got lucky.”

“You almost knocked out...Viktor Vector...with a single punch? Telling me that’s just _luck_?” 

“Been in the ring with him a dozen times. Just happened to hit a sweet spot on one of those." Jackie shrugged nonchalantly, despite the grin still fixed on his face. 

"Might've only been that one time…." Viktor spoke up, drawing their attention as he appeared in the workshops' doorway. "But I can still feel it."

"Ah, you're just being-" Jackie started.

"I'm serious kid. That was a hell of a punch." Viktor smiled tiredly as he crossed the room, balancing two green beer bottles in each hand.

“I’d take the compliment.” V turned to Jackie. “Vik says you hit hard? Means you hit...fucking hard.”

“Alright.” Jackie threw his hands up in mock surrender. “So. Better eat this chilli.”

“Good point. Don’t want to think about what’d happen if we let it go to waste.” Viktor started dragging over mismatching chairs from opposing corners of the workshop.

“Senora Welles that terrifying?” V frowned.

“Sometimes.” Jackie grinned. 

“Then...yeah. Better get to eating.” V paused. “Thanks...by the way.”

“Wasn’t going to let the chilli-” Jackie started.

“Not the chilli.” V took a moment to correct herself. “Not  _ just  _ the chilli. For dragging...my gonk ass over here.”

“No problem.” Jackie smiled, as he opened up the chilli container. 

“I’ll...return the favour. First chance I get.” V found her own smile staying firmly fixed. 

“Hold you to that.” Jackie looked up for a moment, and nodded, before returning his focus to the chilli.

“Rather not have you turn up half dead as a result.” Viktor spoke up, as he retrieved a series of plates from one of the workshops many cupboards.

“Me too.” Misty smiled as she placed down a tray of to-go coffee cups- before ducking under Vik to open a drawer, pulling out equally mismatched cutlery. “I like having you home in one piece.”

“Always have me in one piece.” Jackie spoke confidently, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. “Bulletproof, remember?”

“Didn’t I hear...Vik say that you-” V took as deep a breath as she could. “When you dragged me here...he said he’d patched you up...a couple days ago?”

“ _ Mierda _ .” Jackie cursed. “Heard that? Thought you were too out of it.”

“Thought wrong.” V grinned, which quickly turned into a grimace when a spike of pain hit her- forcing her to take a moment before continuing. “‘Sides, pretty sure I’m proof...that being bulletproof just...isn’t really a thing.”

“Unless you’re a suit and can get that…” Jackie gestured aimlessly. “...armoured skin.”

“Most suits can’t even afford that.” Viktor joined in, pulling his chair closer. 

“Ok, ok.” Jackie shook his head, before returning his attention to the container of chilli. “I’ll share this out. Who wants to crack open those beers?”

“I’ll do it.” V spoke up quickly. “Like to feel...not...completely useless.”

“Works for me.” Jackie nodded, idly glancing in Viktor’s direction. “Hand ‘em over.”

“Sure you can-” Viktor started, as he held the beers out towards V.

“For fuck’s-” V took a deep breath, finding herself almost laughing despite it all. “I can take-”

“If you’re about to say you can take care of yourself…” Viktor quirked an eyebrow. “I’m throwing you off that damn chair.”

“You wouldn’t.” V held out one of the beers, before snapping the side of her hand against the lid; popping off the cap in one go. “Just be more trouble...than I already am.”

When Viktor’s tired smile just stretched wider in response, V felt her own grin do the same. Sure, there was still a hell of a lot of guilt weighing on her shoulders, in tandem with the ever-prescent pain...but she felt a fuck tonne better than she had when she set foot back in the city a few hours ago. The entire situation, whilst more than a little warped due to the twisted circumstances, was oddly domestic. It wasn’t how V would normally spend an evening after getting through a tough job; her usual vices were a few hours hazing through various clubs, and ending up back in her apartment with a few joytoys on her arm. ( _ The latter she’d leave out when recanting the entire venture to Viktor the next evening, because V had scarred him enough already with the wild, Gig related shit she’d gotten into in the past _ ) But it was definitely a welcome change. Despite the fact she only knew of Jackie and Misty through the various stories Viktor spoke about, it felt like she’d genuinely known them a hell of a lot longer than the few hours in reality. There wasn’t anything about them that set off any warning signs in Vs head. Misty had this weird...almost aura...of serene kindness, with a smile you’d find it hard not to return. 

And Jackie? Kindness in another way, with what seemed like a wicked sense of humour mixed in. Ok, yeah, V was starting to see why Viktor had been so insistent on giving them a shot. Not that she planned on telling the old ripper that- he had enough leverage already. Giving him more would subject V to even more quick fire banter the next time she got dragged into his workshop. So V just stayed as she was, popping open beers and smiling in a way she hadn’t truly done in months; watching in comfortable silence as Jackie dished out chilli, and Misty passed plates and cutlery around. The image of friendly domesticity, punctuated by tired smiles and oddly loud laughter, combined with the scent of home-cooked food wafting through the metallic air of the workshop, was an image V found herself wanting to hold on to. Moments like these were rare to find, especially in Night City. And whilst she was still vehemently opposed to completely opening up to anyone other than her small circle of friends, V figured a sit-down meal was a start. The start of what, she didn’t entirely know.  _ But that was something...something she found herself looking forward to discovering. _

“-and here’s yours, kid.” Viktor held out a plate of chilli in her direction, interrupting her rambling thoughts.

“Thanks.” V nodded at him and Jackie in turn, as she took the plate- and then the cutlery once it was offered. 

Just as she was lifting a spoonful of chilli and synth-rice to her mouth, V paused, noticing one small obstacle- the oxygen mask was still firmly fixed on her face. And whilst she could deny it all she wanted, she knew she couldn’t exactly go without it yet either. The brief conversation she’d joined in on, between Viktor, Misty and Jackie, had left her more breathless than she cared to admit out loud. But she was also intent on trying the chilli that the others just wouldn’t shut up about. Because if it tasted even half as good as it smelled, it was going to be miles better than anything else V had eaten in a damn long time.

“Shit.” Viktor handed his plate to Misty, seeming to come to the same realization as V. “Hold on.”

After a moment or two of rummaging through a nearby series of cabinets, Viktor returned to V with the solution. Which made V lean her head back with a groan, probably coming out more dramatic than she really meant it- but she didn’t exactly care. Sure, a nasal cannula wasn’t like having a long fucking needle jamming into your skin, but it was so uncomfortable, and itchy as all hell. Uncomfortable was an understatement, in fact. Having something shoved up your nose, especially when said nose was jammed with multiple piercings, was not Vs idea of a fun time. But it was also the only real solution to the chilli and oxygen related problems. And V was getting to the point where she was so hungry, she was almost past the point of caring about whatever she shoved down her throat. So she reluctantly leant her head forward, and bit back any further complaints as Viktor carefully removed the oxygen mask. He moved quickly to replace the mask attachment with the cannula, but V was still terrifyingly breathless by the time he hooked her back up to the oxygen. She’d hoped to keep just how much she was struggling to herself, but judging by the way Misty had moved closer, and Jackie had paused with his spoon in mid-air? She’d done a poor fucking job. 

“Doing alright?” Viktor asked, drawing Vs attention once more.

“Yeah…” V felt her body relax as her breathing evened out, shivering slightly as the cold air ran down her nose. “Thanks, Vik.”

“Don’t mention it.” Viktor smiled, as he took his plate back from Misty. 

“Probably...a stupid question...given the shit tonne of spices I can smell.” V turned her attention to Jackie. “But...this spicy?”

“Why? That not your thing?” Jackie frowned.

“No. Pretty sure the only way...to make half of Night City’s takeout...edible...is to drown it in hot sauce.” V grinned. “I can handle spice.”

“Good.” Jackie’s frown quickly turned into a smile. “Come on, V. Shit’s getting cold.”

As soon as she took a mouthful of the chilli, V felt her eyes widen- and saw Jackie’s smile stretch ever wider in response. Fucking hell, none of them were kidding, with the way they went on about the chilli. Whilst the food in NC was admittedly a low bar, this was definitely the best thing she’d ever tasted. Helped that it was home-made, and not microwaved or reheated like her usual takeout fare. (V was usually too tired or too wasted to try and attempt anything beyond a 5 minute burrito) Fuck. Ok. This had to put those fancy restaurants in the Corporate Circles  _ to shame.  _ The synth-meat had been cooked to fucking perfection, and the rice was no different. But the sauce, holy shit. Jackie wasn’t kidding, it was spicy as all hell, and V definitely had to mask a few inadvertent coughs in response, but it was so damn good. Whereas the hot sauces V used to make up for her own lack of cooking were often spicy for the sake of it, there was a hell of a lot of flavour in this mix of spices. It was going to take a huge fucking deal of self control not to inhale the entire plate like some weird-ass gremlin.

“Holy shit.” V spoke, when she’d finally gotten through that mouthful. “I see...what you were on about. This shit...is  _ amazing. _ ”

“I’m surprised your body didn’t reject it, kid.” Viktor paused partway through his own plate. “Real food-”

“Alright, alright.” V interjected. “My eating habits...are shit. I get it.”

“Can’t be that bad.” Misty smiled, idly taking a sip from one of the to-go coffee cups. 

“Think those microwaved burritos you see on TV-” Viktor paused, actually  _ grinning _ . “Only ten times worse.”

“Seriously?” Jackie looked up from where he’d been almost inhaling his own plate of chilli. “Gonna have to do more than one lunch.”

“Ok normally...I’d be getting...a bit pissed off…” V held back laughter, willing herself not to grimace when the motions pulled at her aching body. “But if every lunch is...like this chilli? Throw whatever the hell you want at me.”

“Can do.” Jackie nodded, smile radiating warmth, before returning to his chilli.

The rest of the impromptu, late night dinner passed in companionable silence, only punctured every so often by someone wanting to be passed their bottle of beer or cup of coffee. And V just...sat and enjoyed it, finding her eyes drifting to each of her three unwitting companions in turn. There was definitely still a large part of her that was terrified about extending the same small circle of friends she’d had for years, but V found that was slowly being chipped away. Sure, if she really wanted to make good on the ways of opening up, she’d have to bring up the same shit she’d told Viktor, but that was a long fucking way away. It’d be more than a few lunches, even if they  _ were  _ as amazing as the chilli, before V felt remotely comfortable sharing even the barest slivers of information about her life. But for the first time in years, she found herself  _ wanting  _ to start down that road. 

Fuck, she’d been so adamant about hiding away once she got back to Night City, overwhelmed by a guilt that would still be eating away at her for weeks to come. V never could have imagined this was how her return would go. Yeah, she was still in a hell of a lot of pain, and would be for a while thanks to how royally she’d fucked up her body in Atlanta, but it hadn’t ended the way she thought it would. She wasn’t passed out on her couch, body burning from a mixture of pain and exhaustion, unconsciousness aided by copious amounts of alcohol; shoulders sunken in with the guilt of how she’d treated Vik. No, she was sat up in his workshop, enjoying a home-cooked meal, just watching as they all traded silent smiles.

_ It was weird how something as ultimately simple as a meal could change things, or how plans could spiral out of control and leave you at the doorstep of said meal… _

_ But V definitely wasn’t complaining. _

**_Not this time, anyway._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! Another fun chapter of exploration! Got another 1 or 2 to go before I move on to the main fic, where I cover the 6 months of shenanigans V and Jackie get up to in the montage!

**Author's Note:**

> There’s the first chapter. (Don't worry, much more Jackie in chapter 2!) 
> 
> That was 16k words of me exploring how fucked up my V is before her and Jackie cross paths. I wanted to set up why she left Atlanta, (don’t worry, you’ll get the full explanation as the fic progresses) and other such stuff. I had alot of fun writing this, particularly her interactions with Sebastian Ibarra and Pepe, so hopefully you had fun reading it!
> 
> Publishing this alongside the second chapter because I wanted to really get the ball rolling. I have so many ideas for good Jackie/V friendship stuff, as well as ways to include people like Viktor and Misty. (And a number of others). 
> 
> Consider leaving me your thoughts in a comment! I know my V came off as...kinda edgy in parts, but that’s just...her. Or the version she has most people see. Jackie’s a good influence on her, trust me. She doesn't want to let people in but Jackie is all "we're going to be friends" and doesn't give her an option. Basically rugby-tackles her into a friendship.


End file.
